Brooks Williams (born November 10, 1958, in Statesboro, Georgia) is an Amer… Read Full Bio ↴Brooks Williams (born November 10, 1958, in Statesboro, Georgia) is an American acoustic guitarist and singer/songwriter. His style combines roots, jazz, blues, classical, and folk. Since 1989 he has been releasing albums of contemporary folk music, as well as some consisting of instrumental guitar music.

Williams is a stunning blues-soaked, rhythmic, and soulful guitarist. His musical vision spans continents and genres – blues, slide, swingin’ jazz, fingerstyle – and manifests itself in a hybrid of funky chords, walking bass lines, and fiery leads. With influences as diverse as John Fahey, Michael Bloomfield, and Joseph Spence, it is pleasantly difficult to pin Williams down. He’s a guitarist, a songwriter, and an interpreter. For example, Williams’ signature guitar riffs can be heard in between news segments on National Public Radio in the United States, his song Forget About Him is a mainstay on XM Radio, and his cover of the Blind Boy Fuller classic Weepin’ Willow Blues regularly brings audiences to their feet.

Williams is also one of the most entertaining and engaging performers on the circuit today. His concerts are legendary: a constantly evolving mix of blues, originals, ballads, and instrumentals, presented in a fresh and personable way. More than one audience member has been heard to muse about a Brooks Williams concert: “Now there’s a musician who loves his work!” From coast-to-coast, country-to-country, Williams and his guitars roll and tumble like nobody’s business.

A self-professed road warrior, Williams has toured relentlessly throughout his 20-year (and counting!) career, zig-zagging back and forth across the United States and Canada, plus regularly hopping overseas to England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. He’s a mainstay on club, coffeehouse and festival stages, including The Marlborough Jazz Festival in Marlborough, England, Whelan's in Dublin, Ireland, Godfrey Daniels in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, The Snow Goose Theater in Anchorage, Alaska, Summer-fest in New Bedford, Massachusetts, and Uncle Calvin's in Dallas, Texas (to name but a very few). Says Williams: "My favorite hours of the day are when I’m on-stage!"

Brooks Williams is from Statesboro, Georgia – the town made famous by Blind Willie McTell in his song Statesboro Blues – but musically came into his own in Boston, Massachusetts. While nearly everyone else was peddling vinyl and cassettes, Williams was one of the first independent artists to release a recording on compact disc. His 1990 direct-to-digital showcase of solo guitar and voice, North From Statesboro, turned heads.

North From Statesboro was just the tip of the iceberg. Subsequent albums, each different and daring in some way, received constant airplay on public and college radio and garnered him praise from the likes of All Things Considered, the BBC, The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, Acoustic Guitar, Performing Songwriter, and Guitar Player, including the ground-breaking Back To Mercy (1992), the best-selling Knife Edge (1996), the instrumental gem Little Lion (2000), and his classic Blues and Ballads (2006). Williams has released fifteen CDs to date (all available on iTunes) on labels like Green Linnet, Signature Sounds, and Solid Air. Williams, who now makes his home in the Northampton area of Western Massachusetts, has already begun plans to record a new CD in early Summer 2007. And discussions have begun regarding a concert DVD and an instructional DVD.

Brooks Williams has also recorded tracks for an impressive list of compilations. Most notably is the National Reso-phonic Instrumental Project (proceeds benefit BluesAid and the Music Maker Relief Foundation), Letters To Bert (a tribute to guitar legend Bert Jansch), and Wonderland, a holiday sampler from Signature Sounds (which features Brooks’ Dave-Brubeck-meets-Tony-Rice treatment of I Wonder As I Wander).

Coming in 2007 is the Steve Tilston box set (a tribute album), which features Brooks’ arrangement of Here Comes The Night, and DeLovely Guitar, a guitar tribute to the music of Cole Porter put out by Solid Air Records and includes Williams’ arrangement of You’re The Top.

Another stunning compilation is the memoir Between The Strings: The Secret Lives of Guitars, an engaging collection of essays written by guitarists about their guitars. In addition to Brooks’ essay about temporarily losing his beloved red guitar while on tour in Ireland, are essays by B.B. King, Doc Watson, Laurence Juber, Tuck Andress, and George Benson, among others.

Over the years the breadth of Brooks Williams’ musical vision has broadened and deepened beyond solo recording and performing. This certifiable triple-threat (guitarist, songwriter, singer) is also a fearless collaborator and educator.

His collaborations include his critically acclaimed duo with violinist and singer Rani Arbo (which has fans lining up around the block to experience their eclectic take on swing, jazz, and traditional music), his Guitar Summit concerts of Blues and American Songbook explorations with fellow-guitarist Paul Asbell, the guitarist-singer-in-the-round concerts with Garnet Rogers, and the Trans-Atlantic Song-swap concerts with English guitarist and songwriter Steve Tilston.

Brooks Williams is also a well-respected teacher who regularly leads guitar, performance, and songwriting workshops at The Swannanoa Gathering (North Carolina), Augusta Heritage Guitar Week (West Virginia), Midnight Sun Song Camp (Alaska), Cedar Run Song Workshops (Virginia), Newport Guitar Festival (Rhode Island), and Summer Acoustic Music Week (New Hampshire), to name but a few. Additionally, Williams runs a series of very successful summer day camps teaching beginning blues and roots guitar to kids. Williams is devoted to not only preserving the art of the acoustic guitar but to educating a future generation of players.

Brooks Williams’ music rocks like the blues and swings like jazz. It is as fresh and original as any music you are likely to hear - and inspires Dirty Linen magazine to call Brooks Williams one of "America's musical treasures."

Website: www.brookswilliams.com

You're The Top
Brooks Williams Lyrics

Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴

At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed.
I hate parading my serenading
As I'll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty,
At least it'll tell you how great you are.

You're the top! You're the Colosseum,
You're the top! You're the Louvre Museum,
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss,
You're a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeart sonnet,
You're Mickey Mouse.
You're the Nile, You're the Tow'r of Pisa,
You're the smile on the Mona Lisa.
I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

Your words poetic are not pathetic
On the other hand, boy, you shine
And I can feel after every line
A thrill divine down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that your song is bad,
But for a person who's just rehearsin'
Well I gotta say this my lad:

You're the top! You're Mahatma Ghandi.
You're the top! You're Napolean brandy.
You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gall'ry, You're Garbo's sal'ry,
You're cellophane.
You're sublime, You're a turkey dinner.
You're the time of the Derby winner.
I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop.
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top! You're a Ritz hot toddy.
You're the top! You're a Brewster body.
You're the boats that glide on the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You're a Nathan Panning, You're Bishop Manning,
You're broccoli.
You're a prize, You're a night at Coney,
You're the eyes of Irene Bordoni,
I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top.

You're the top! You're an Arrow collar.
You're the top! You're a Coolidge dollar.
You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You're an O'Neill drama, You're Whistler's mama,
You're Camembert.
You're a rose, You're Inferno's Dante,
You're the nost of the great Durante.
I'm just in the way, as the French would say
"De trop,"
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top.

You're the top! You're a Waldorf salad.
You're the top! You're a Berlin ballad.
You're a baby grand of a lady and a gent.
You're an old dutch master, You're Mrs. Aster,
You're Pepsodent.
You're romance, You're the steppes of Russia,
You're the pants on a Roxy usher.
I'm a lazy lout that's just about to stop,
But if Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top! You're a dance in Bali.
You're the top! You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you simply too, too, too divine,
You're a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley,
You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a nominee of the G.O.P. or GOP,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top! You're the Tower of Babel.
You're the top! You're the Whitney Stable.
By the River Rhine, You're a sturdy stein of beer,
You're a dress from Saks's, You're next year's taxes,'
You're stratosphere.
You're my thoist, You're a Drumstick Lipstick,
You're the foist in the Irish svipstick,
I'm a frightened frog that can find no log to hop,

But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

Overall Meaning

The lyrics to Brooks Williams's song "You're The Top" are a playful expression of admiration and adoration for a lover or a significant other. The song is structured as a dialogue between two people, with the first person expressing a lack of poetic prowess and instead choosing to use this song as a way to worship their loved one. The second person responds by calling the first person's words poetic and expressing that they feel a thrill down their spine after every line. The lyrics are filled with comparisons to famous, beautiful, and iconic people and places, all of which pale in comparison to the greatness of the loved one.

The song's chorus repeats the phrase "you're the top," with each verse adding new comparisons to the list of things that the loved one surpasses. The comparisons include everything from famous landmarks and works of art to popular culture icons like Mickey Mouse. The song is playful and has a light-hearted tone, making use of puns and wordplay to add to its charm.

Line by Line Meaning

At words poetic, I'm so pathetic That I always have found it best, Instead of getting 'em off my chest, To let 'em rest unexpressed.
I'm not good at expressing my emotions through words, so I tend to keep them to myself rather than make a fool of myself trying to say what I feel.

I hate parading my serenading As I'll probably miss a bar, But if this ditty is not so pretty, At least it'll tell you how great you are.
I'm not comfortable singing my praises to you, but even if my song is not perfect, it still gets the message across that you are amazing.

Your words poetic are not pathetic On the other hand, boy, you shine And I can feel after every line A thrill divine down my spine.
Your poetic words are not weak or foolish. Instead, they shine and leave me with a divine feeling of excitement with each line you speak.

Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans Might think that your song is bad, But for a person who's just rehearsin' Well I gotta say this my lad:
Even someone as musically talented as Vincent Youmans may not appreciate your song, but for someone like me who's just learning, I must say that I love it.

You're the top! You're Mahatma Ghandi. You're the top! You're Napolean brandy. You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain, You're the National Gall'ry, You're Garbo's sal'ry, You're cellophane. You're sublime, You're a turkey dinner. You're the time of the Derby winner. I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop. But if, Baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top!
You are everything, from the greatness of Mahatma Ghandi to the delicacy of a turkey dinner. Compared to you, I am nothing more than a toy balloon about to burst, but that only confirms that you are truly the best.

You're the top! You're an Arrow collar. You're the top! You're a Coolidge dollar. You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire, You're an O'Neill drama, You're Whistler's mama, You're Camembert. You're a rose, You're Inferno's Dante, You're the nost of the great Durante. I'm just in the way, as the French would say "De trop," But if, Baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top.
You are the best of the best, from the dapper Arrow collar to the elite Coolidge dollar. You are as graceful as Fred Astaire's dancing and as cultured as Whistler's mother. In comparison, I am just in the way, but that only confirms your superior stature.

You're the top! You're a Waldorf salad. You're the top! You're a Berlin ballad. You're a baby grand of a lady and a gent. You're an old dutch master, You're Mrs. Aster, You're Pepsodent. You're romance, You're the steppes of Russia, You're the pants on a Roxy usher. I'm a lazy lout that's just about to stop, But if Baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top!
You are the epitome of class, from the sophisticated Waldorf salad to the melodic Berlin ballad. You embody elegance and refinement like a baby grand piano played by a true lady or gentleman. Compared to you, I am just a lazy bum, but you still reign supreme.

You're the top! You're a dance in Bali. You're the top! You're a hot tamale. You're an angel, you simply too, too, too divine, You're a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley, You're Ovaltine. You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder, You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder. I'm a nominee of the G.O.P. or GOP, But if, Baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top!
You are the essence of beauty, from the exotic dance in Bali to the spicy hot tamale. You are divinely angelic, on the level of Botticelli and literary greats like Keats and Shelley. You are a blessing and a wonder, like the Boulder Dam and the moonlit view of Mae West's shoulder. I may be a political nominee, but you are the undisputed top.

You're the top! You're the Tower of Babel. You're the top! You're the Whitney Stable. By the River Rhine, You're a sturdy stein of beer, You're a dress from Saks's, You're next year's taxes,' You're stratosphere. You're my thoist, You're a Drumstick Lipstick, You're the foist in the Irish svipstick, I'm a frightened frog that can find no log to hop, But if, Baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top!
You are as mighty as the Tower of Babel and as prosperous as the Whitney Stable. By the riverside, you're as hearty as a German stein of beer, but also as trendy as a dress from Saks Fifth Avenue and as inevitable as next year's taxes. You're even as high up as the stratosphere. You define me, even as I am as helpless as a frog stranded on a log. But still, you reign supreme as the top of the top.

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: COLE PORTER

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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