Resistance Song for Day 40 - "My Hometown" by Bruce Springsteen

Songwriter Bruce Springsteen.

Day 40 - "My Hometown" by Bruce Springsteen

       As Tip O'Neill (1912-1994) was wont to say:  "All politics is local."
    
      It may be that everything we need to know about a person can be discerned by asking how they define "home".  Some can live in their own house for decades but "back home" and "my hometown" can still mean the place they grew up, a thousand miles away, especially if their parents still live there.

     For many, the term is fleeting, as Ojibwa comedian Shingoose would relate sardonically:

 When I was a boy, my father took me to the top of a hill overlooking our reservation.  He would spread his arm out to encompass this stretch of land and announce:  "Son, one day...none of this will be yours!"

       Others take a philosophical view:

      The confused hero of "In the Shade", Jim McGuire, finds himself prematurely at the pearly gates.  St. Peter is willing to taxi Jim back to his domicile if he can point the way.  Jim gives an address.  Heaven's guardian rolls his eyes and suggests that Jim begin with his planet of residence.

     "Earth," Jim replies.  "Hang a right at Jupiter, and we're there."

St. Pete:  "Which Earth?" 

Jim:  "Milky Way."

St. Pete:  "Which Milky Way?"

Jim:  "Say what?"

      Pearly Pete explains infinity.  Toss a die an infinite number of times;  how many fives will you get?  An infinite number.  Anything that exists must have been a possibility--a face on that die.  So, stretched across the infinite, how many of anything is there?  Again, an infinite number.

      As the questioning continues, Jim realizes that he may never be able to describe or see his universe, his galaxy, his solar system, his planet, his home.  Indeed, with no family and few friends, he can't even describe what "home" entails.

      After hours of despair, Jim finds an answer:  "I am here.  Only one of those Earths is missing a Jim McGuire.  Please, take me there."

      Before disappearing, and before Jim wakes up in his bed, the angel smiles, nods and says:  "Yes.  That is how you find it.  That is what it is.  Home is the place that is missing you."

      Other impressions are more personal:

      In "Love is a Weakness" Kemla tries, in her farewell speech, to explain to her lover (who knows nothing of her illness) how much she has adored him:

"You showed me home
is a person
not a place."

New Jersey governor Chris Christie.

      Bruce Frederick Joseph Springsteen (born September 23, 1949) rose from poor beginnings.  He's a student of Pete Seeger, an advocate for LGBTQ rights, and a supporter of Barack Obama.  Suffice it to say his Governor's admiration for Bruce Springsteen is not mutual.

     "My Hometown", from Bruce's 1984 megahit "Born In the U.S.A." album, is bittersweet nostalgia of a Middle American town experiencing racism, violence, unemployment and despair.  This was a time when so many of us had only one hometown. 

      There's a reason we call this guy "The Boss".  His duets (e.g. "Thunder Road" with Melissa Etheridge , "Tougher than the Rest" with wife Patti Scialfa, "Born to Run" with John Bon Jovi, and the unlikely "Come Together" with Axl Rose, to name only a few) are especially charming. 

      We'll be hearing more from Bruce in this series.

Lyrics:

I was eight years old and running with a dime in my hand
Into the bus stop to pick up a paper for my old man
I'd sit on his lap in that big old Buick and steer as we drove through town
He'd tousle my hair and say son take a good look around
This is your hometown
This is your hometown
This is your hometown
This is your hometown

In '65 tension was running high at my high school
There was a lot of fights between the black and white
There was nothing you could do
Two cars at a light on a Saturday night in the back seat there was a gun
Words were passed in a shotgun blast
Troubled times had come
To my hometown
My hometown
My hometown
My hometown

Now Main Street's whitewashed windows and vacant stores
Seems like there ain't nobody wants to come down here no more
They're closing down the textile mill across the railroad tracks
Foreman says these jobs are going boys and they ain't coming back
To your hometown
Your hometown
Your hometown
Your hometown

Last night me and Kate we laid in bed
Talking about getting out
Packing up our bags maybe heading south
I'm thirty five we got a boy of our own now
Last night I sat him up behind the wheel and said son take a good look around
This is your hometown

     I only wish this video were of better quality:

Resistance Song for Day 39 - "The Trouble With Normal" by Bruce Cockburn

Day 39 - "The Trouble With Normal" by Bruce Cockburn

Songwriter Bruce Cockburn.

     Yesterday we discussed one of the scarcest elements of partisan politics:   common sense.  Today we examine another:  normality.

     This series includes some of the most beautiful songs ever written.  This isn't a contender, even among Cockburn's offerings.  The lyrical pace is only a few beats slower than an auctioneer's, the melody has the same "range" as Trump's EEG and the music has the charm and nuance of a vuvuzela.  The "video" is a still picture of an album cover.  The text won't thrill prosodists but may work as a rant or as an object lesson.

      Viewed in the latter contexts, this is an interesting study in the dangers of normalization.  That which we accept, however reluctantly, will flourish.

Donald Trump's latest electroencephalogram.

      Every line in this song could serve as the title for an essay.  For example:

Person in the street shrugs -- "Security comes first!"

       ...could be countered by Benjamin Franklin's famous quote:

 "Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety."

Lyrics for Bruce Cockburn's "The Trouble With Normal" (1981)

Strikes across the frontier and strikes for higher wage
Planet lurches to the right as ideologies engage
Suddenly it's repression, moratorium on rights
What did they think the politics of panic would invite?
Person in the street shrugs -- "Security comes first"
But the trouble with normal is it always gets worse

Callous men in business costume speak computerese
Play pinball with the third world trying to keep it on its knees
Their single crop starvation plans put sugar in your tea
And the local third world's kept on reservations you don't see
"It'll all go back to normal if we put our nation first"
But the trouble with normal is it always gets worse

Fashionable fascism dominates the scene
When the ends don't meet it's easier to justify the means
Tenants get the dregs and the landlords get the cream
As the grinding devolution of the democratic dream
Brings us men in gas masks dancing while the shells burst
The trouble with normal is it always gets worse

 Index of Titles

Resistance Song for Day 38 - "Common Sense" by John Prine

Day 38 - "Common Sense" by John Prine

Songwriter John Prine.

      Issues that face Democrats include, but are not limited to:  unity, coherence, planning, law enforcement, and immigration.  This John Prine tune addresses all of these, advocating common (read:  very uncommon, it seems) sense as the solution.

     The style is unmistakable:  solid but unspectacular guitar music and trinary (i.e. roughly anapest, de-de-DUM) rhythms in the verses.  In this particular case the choruses are (de-DUM) iambic.  It is these things, coupled with the simple--often childlike--themes and language, that make it difficult to rid ourselves of these earworms.  No one writes a more singable song than John Prine.

     Yesterday's DNC vote was a rare example of common sense in action.  Knowing that it came down to a polarizing choice between Tom Perez and Keith Ellison, the two frontrunners went to dinner together and agreed to share power.  Cynics who think "Deputy Chair" might be a meaningless position should ask themselves if Ellison would accept such an arrangement for long.  He becomes the canary in the mine shaft;  if he disappears the party loses.  Again.  Somehow, centrist and progressive leaders have figured out they can't win on their own.  The Party is like a boxer who wakes up one morning and discovers he has a left arm.  Brilliant!

Lyrics:

You can't live together
You can't live alone
Considering the weather
Oh my, how you've grown
From the men in the factories
To the wild kangaroo
Like those birds of a feather
They're gathering together
And feeling
Exactly like you
 

See also:  "The masses are asses."

They got mesmerized
By lullabies
And limbo danced
In pairs
Please lock that door
It don't make much sense
That common sense
Don't make no sense
No more

Just between you and me
It's like pulling
When you ought to be shovin,
Like a nun
With her head in the oven
Please don't tell me
That this really wasn't nothing

One of these days
One of these nights
You'll take off your hat
And they'll read you
Your rights
You'll wanna get high
Every time you feel low
Hey, Queen Isabella
Stay away from that fella
He'll just get you
Into trouble, you know?

But they came here by boat
And they came here by plane
They blistered their hands
And they burned out their brain
All dreaming a dream
That'll never come true
Hey, don't give me no trouble
Or I'll call up my double
We'll play piggy-in-the-middle
With you

You'll get mesmerized
By alibis
And limbo dance in pairs
Please lock that door
It don't make much sense
That common sense
Don't make no sense
No more

Resistance Song for Day 37 - "The Partisan" by Leonard Cohen

Day 37 - "The Partisan" by Leonard Cohen

Songwriter Leonard Cohen (1934-2016)

     "The Partisan" may be the ultimate resistance song, written by the greatest verser of our time.  Before picking up an instrument Cohen authored not one, not two, but three bestselling poetry collections ("Let Us Compare Mythologies" in 1954, "The Spice-Box of Earth" in 1961, and  "Flowers for Hitler" (1964), back in the day when "bestselling poetry" wasn't an oxymoron.  He also squeezed in two award-winning novels:   "The Favorite Game" (1963) and "Beautiful Losers" (1966).  He won his country's highest award for both poetry and performing arts.  For an entire generation before the World Wide Web began to flourish, circa 1993, the Internet consisted of email, a few university databases and, primarily, a billboard structure known as "Usenet".  The latter had forums for almost everything but, for most of that time, only one was dedicated to a contemporary poet, songwriter or lyricist:  alt.music.leonard.cohen. 

      It is unclear as to whether or not Hollywood can produce a quality film, let alone one without a soundtrack by Leonard Cohen [or Loreena McKennitt].  Like John Stewart (who needed money for his wife's hospital bills), Leonard Cohen was forced to come out of retirement [because of his manager's handling of his finances].  On November 7th, 2016, the world suffered the first of two tragic days:  to quote another great 21st century poet, Leonard left "the garden darker for lack of one golden flower."

      Originally written entirely in French as "La Complainte du Partisan", "The Partisan" has been covered by almost as many singers as Cohen's "Hallelujah".   It is a reminder of the sacrifices made by those who have opposed oppression in the past, and a tribute to those among us who continue to do so.

Lyrics:

When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender
This I could not do
I took my gun and vanished

I have changed my name so often
I've lost my wife and children
But I have many friends
And some of them are with me

An old woman gave us shelter
Kept us hidden in the garret
Then the soldiers came
She died without a whisper

There were three of us this morning
I'm the only one this evening
But I must go on
The frontiers are my prison

Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing
Through the graves the wind is blowing
Freedom soon will come
Then we'll come from the shadows

Les Allemands étaient chez moi
Ils me dirent, "Résigne toi"
Mais je n'ai pas peur
J'ai repris mon arme

    The Germans were at my house
    They said:  "Give yourself up"
    but I didn't fear.
    I took up arms.

J'ai changé cent fois de nom
J'ai perdu femme et enfants
Mais j'ai tant d'amis
J'ai la France entière

    I've changed by name 100 times
    I lost my wife and children
    but I've many friends
    I have all of France

Un vieil homme dans un grenier
Pour la nuit nous a caché
Les Allemands l'ont pris
Il est mort sans surprise

    An old man in an garret
    gave me shelter for the night
    The Germans took him
    He died without a whisper.

Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing
Through the graves the wind is blowing
Freedom soon will come
Then we'll come from the shadows

Song for Day 36 of a 4 Year Funeral - "Patience" by Guns 'n Roses

Day 36 - "Patience" by Guns 'n Roses

     From yesterday's edition:

 Two years later we lost RFK and Martin Luther King.  It wasn't until Obama in 2012 that Democrats had another nominee win more than 50% of the vote.  Our problem is in finding candidates that both centrists and progressives will support.

Guns 'N Roses.

     Wait, what is this redneck, Axl Rose, doing here?

     Patience, Grasshopper.  Things will get a little more confusing but all will be revealed in the fullness of time.

     Many of us here are itching to get rid of this Comb-Over Caligula and his minions.  We'd love to fast forward to 2020 and relegate this Akhenaten Wannabee and His Band of Reclown to the dustbin of history.

     In the DNC debate on February 22nd, 2017, candidate Pete Buttigieg (Mayor of South Bend, Indiana) said:  

 ...we treat the presidency as the only office that matters.  Our opponents on the Republican side have patiently and cleverly built majorities at the state house level, Congress--it's not just about what the White House, and when we fail to recognize that we get into a whole lot of trouble even when we have the White House, having our policies obstructed...

     The point being made has more to do with the video than the song or the singer.  The venue is an old, dilapidated building, no longer in use as public accommodation and finally demolished seven years later, in 2006.  As in real life, most of Axl Rose's band mates disappear, abandoning him.  It's a lovely song, apparently written for his wife/girlfriend,  Erin Everly, who also left him.  It can resonate with a listener old enough to remember the Kennedys, Martin Luther King, and so many other departed souls. 

     In the end, the video is what it is:  a lonely plea for patience, the voice among the last emanating from the hotel where Bobby was assassinated.

Lyrics:  "Patience" (1989)

Shed a tear 'cause I'm missin' you
I'm still alright to smile
Girl, I think about you every day now
Was a time when I wasn't sure
But you set my mind at ease
There is no doubt you're in my heart now
Said woman take it slow, and it'll work itself out fine
All we need is just a little patience
Said sugar make it slow and we'll come together fine
All we need is just a little patience (Patience)
Mm, yeah
I sit here on the stairs
'Cause I'd rather be alone
If I can't have you right now, I'll wait dear
Sometimes I get so tense but I can't speed up the time
But you know love there's one more thing to consider
Said woman take it slow and things will be just fine
You and I'll just use a little patience
Said sugar take the time 'cause the lights are shining bright
You and I've got what it takes to make it
We won't fake it, I'll never break it
'Cause I can't take it

Little patience, mm yeah, mm yeah
Need a little patience, yeah
Just a little patience, yeah
Some more patience, yeah (I've been walking the streets at night, just trying to get it right)
A little patience, yeah (Its hard to see with so many around
You know I don't like being stuck in the crowd)
Could use some patience, yeah (And the streets don't change but maybe the names)
(I ain't got time for the game 'cause I need you)
Gotta have more patience, yeah (Yeah, yeah but I need you)
All need some patience (Ooh I need you, whoa I need you)
Just a little patience is all you need (Ooh, this time, ah)
 

Resistance Song for Day 35 - "Irresistible Targets" by John Stewart

Day 35 - "Irresistible Targets" by John Stewart

Singer Buffy Ford Stewart and Songwriter John Stewart.

     On Day 33 we heard Phil Ochs in "Love Me, I'm a Liberal" mention those who remain with us only in spirit:  Medgar Evers, JFK, Malcolm X,  and singer Pete Seeger.  Two years later we lost RFK and Martin Luther King.  It wasn't until Obama in 2012 that Democrats had another nominee win more than 50% of the vote.  Our problem is in finding candidates that both centrists and progressives will support.

     John Stewart tells a story about working with Bobby Kennedy on the last whistlestop campaign, scant days before the assassination.  John had only recently met Buffy Ford, who would be the love of his life, his co-star, and mother to his children.  We see her here with an eye patch, the result of a 1996 operation to cure her cancer (the cost of which brought John out of retirement).  In 2008, at 66, John died of a stroke on Buffy's birthday.

     In 1968 the Stewarts shared the last car of the train with Bobby and Ethel.  A cynic might say it was an old school political precursor of the bait-and-switch:  John and Buffy would sing songs to attract crowds and then Bobby would give a speech.  As they pulled out of one station a boy on a bike followed them, pedaling furiously to keep pace.  Bobby leaned over the railing and, when the lad managed to catch up, gave him some sound advice:  "Never run for President!"

Lyrics:

Shoot out the moon in a midnight sky.
Shoot out the sun in a blackbird's eye.
Shoot out a dream and don't say why.
So it's up to you and I
To beat our arms against the sky
And keep it flying.

Maria had a store on the boulevard.
For the barrio boys she worked real hard.
When the bullets fly in East LA
A bullet took her out today, out today.

Chorus:

Are they shooting down the Angels, yeah?
You can bet your life they are.
They're irresistible targets
They're irresistible targets
They're irresistible targets
For any shooting star

1968 it has that ring
Of RFK - Martin Luther King
Where a dream went down
On a hotel floor
Dreams are what we're living for, living for.

(Repeat Chorus)

Shoot out the moon in a midnight sky.
Shoot out the sun in a blackbird's eye.
Shoot out a dream and don't say why.
So it's up to you and I
To beat our arms against the sky
And to keep it flying.
Keep it flying.






 

Song for Day 34 of a 4 Year Funeral - "Santo Domingo" by Phil Ochs

Day 34 - "Santo Domingo"  by Phil Ochs

Songwriter Phil Ochs.

     "Santo Domingo", one of Phil's more melodic pieces, focused on the aggressive American stance since the 1950s, an outgrowth of the rise of the U.S. as the world's primary player in the world's largest industry:  arms.  The contrast between the military and the peaceful people, fauna and environment is stark.

     If the weapon producers can keep fear roiling abroad they can sit back at home and rake in the money, like the retired arms merchant in "At Business End":

I envy you your quiet sleep
but I have gone where promise lies
in shadowed doorway, castle keep,
the shallow drains of orphans' eyes.

I've gone to where the prophet lost
disciples to the fear we've sold
and then, at business end, I've washed
the blood away with beer and gold.

Like you those days and nights are past;
these digits say I must retire
to memoirs, pensions, myths that last,
still drawing comfort from the fire.

     Should peace break out, though, these countries become like the buzzards tired of their death watch.

     Pacifism has all but disappeared from the national stage, where it matters, as both parties are led by hawkish nominees.

    "I would leave the country," quipped one pundit after Trump's victory, "but I worry about being a victim of its foreign policy!"

     After meeting Chilean folksinger Victor Jara (who would be killed along with President Salvador Allende and thousands of others 2 years later) in August, 1971, Phil's trip to South America became harrowing, as we read on Wikipedia:

In October, Ochs left Chile to visit Argentina. Later that month, after singing at a political rally in Uruguay, he and his American traveling companion David Ifshin were arrested and detained overnight. When the two returned to Argentina, they were arrested as they got off the airplane. After a brief stay in an Argentinian prison, Ochs and Ifshin were sent to Bolivia via a commercial airliner where authorities were to detain them. Ifshin had previously been warned by Argentinian leftist friends that when the authorities sent dissidents to Bolivia, they would disappear forever. When the airliner arrived in Bolivia, the American captain of the Braniff International Airways aircraft allowed Ochs and Ifshin to stay on the aircraft, and barred Bolivian authorities from entering. The aircraft then flew to Peru where the two disembarked and they were not detained. Fearful that Peruvian authorities might arrest him, Ochs returned to the United States a few days later.

      In the last few years of his life Phil Ochs became affected by bipolarism, delusions (i.e. he thought someone named John Butler Train had taken over his body and will, intending to destroy him), drugs, depression, alcohol, and homelessness before he committed suicide at his sister's home in April of 1976.  Even at his worst, though, Ochs was a picture of mental health compared to Orange Julius Caesar.

Lyrics:

And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth
The sand is burning
And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight
Their courses turning

As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest
The sea is churning
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

The fishermen sweat, they're pausing at their nets
The day's a-burning
As the warships sway and thunder in the bay
Loud the morning

But the boy on the shore is throwing pebbles no more
He runs a-warning
That the marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

The streets are still, there's silence in the hills
The town is sleeping
And the farmers yawn in the gray silver dawn
The fields they're keeping

As the first troops land and step into the sand
The flags are weaving
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

The unsmiling sun is shining down upon
The singing soldiers
In the cloud dust whirl they whistle at the girls
They're getting bolder

The old women sigh, think of memories gone by
They shrug their shoulders
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

Ready for the tricks, their bayonets are fixed
Now they are rolling
And the tanks make tracks past the trembling shacks
Where fear is unfolding

All the young wives afraid, turn their backs on the parade
With babes they're holding
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

A bullet cracks the sound, the army hit the ground
The sniper is callin'
So they open their guns, a thousand to one
No sense in stalling

He clutches at his head and totters on the edge
Look how he's falling
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

In the red plaza square, the crowds come to stare
The heat is leaning
And the eyes of the dead are turning every head
To the widows screaming

But the soldiers make a bid, giving candy to the kids
Their teeth are gleaming
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

Up and down the coed, the generals drink a toast
The wheel is spinning
And the cowards and the whores are peeking
Through the doors to see who's winning

But the traitors will pretend that it's getting near the end
When it's beginning
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth
The sand is burning
And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight
Their courses turning

As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest
The sea is churning
The marines have landed on the shores
Of Santo Domingo

Song for Day 33 of a 4 Year Funeral - "Love Me, I'm a Liberal" by Phil Ochs

Day 33 - "Love Me, I'm a Liberal"  by Phil Ochs

Songwriter Phil Ochs (1940-1976).

     This is the first half a two-part series on the contributions of Phil Ochs (1940-1976) .

     Today, the humor in the 1966 tune, "Love Me, I'm a Liberal", is dated, dark and disturbing.  Nevertheless, it brings up a much neglected subject:  while radio talk shows are almost exclusively right wing, television comedy is the province of progressives.  One wonders why some enterprising soul doesn't hire a bunch of comics to write daily hour-long radio slots and syndicate them inexpensively to radio stations.

     Another topic the song inspires is the rehabilitation of the word "liberal".  The Kennedys, Lenny Bruce and the counterculture laid the general groundwork, but this song began a long process of convincing people to self-identify as "liberal".  This journey culminated on November 6th, 2005, with Season 7, Episode 7 of "West Wing", when candidate Arnold Vinick (played by Alan Alda) accuses Matt Santos (Jimmy Smits) of being a liberal.

I shouldn't tell this story but there's a few things you need to know about the frenetic Alan Alda.  He loves to play bridge, especially online.  While doing so, he likes to type in jokes, especially political ones, to amuse players and kibitzers alike.

Back in 1996, with Bill Clinton facing off against 73 year old Bob Dole (and Ross Perot), Alan asks everyone what we get when we cross a crooked lawyer with a corrupt politician.  Answer:  Chelsea!  Alda then talks about Elizabeth Dole asking her husband, Bob, what underwear he would like to wear in his presidential debate that night.

"Boxers or briefs?" she wonders.

He replies:  "Depends."

     Phil's relationship with Bob Dylan was erratic.  From Wikipedia:

During the early period of his career, Ochs and Bob Dylan had a friendly rivalry. Dylan said of Ochs, "I just can't keep up with Phil. And he just keeps getting better and better and better". On another occasion, when Ochs criticized "Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?" Dylan threw him out of his limousine, saying, "You're not a folksinger. You're a journalist."

     For more on this revolutionary artist, watch the American Masters documentary "Phil Ochs: There But For Fortune", based on his song by that name, covered here by his friend, Joan Baez.

Lyrics:

I cried when they shot Medgar Evers
Tears ran down my spine
I cried when they shot Mr. Kennedy
As though I'd lost a father of mine
But Malcolm X got what was coming
He got what he asked for this time
So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

I go to civil rights rallies
And I put down the old D.A.R.
I love Harry and Sidney and Sammy
I hope every colored boy becomes a star
But don't talk about revolution
That's going a little bit too far
So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

I cheered when Humphrey was chosen
My faith in the system restored
I'm glad the commies were thrown out
of the A.F.L. C.I.O. board
I love Puerto Ricans and Negros
as long as they don't move next door
So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

The people of old Mississippi
Should all hang their heads in shame
I can't understand how their minds work
What's the matter don't they watch Les Crane?
But if you ask me to bus my children
I hope the cops take down your name
So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

I read New republic and Nation
I've learned to take every view
You know, I've memorized Lerner and Golden
I feel like I'm almost a Jew
But when it comes to times like Korea
There's no one more red, white and blue
So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

I vote for the democratic party
They want the U.N. to be strong
I go to all the Pete Seeger concerts
He sure gets me singing those songs
I'll send all the money you ask for
But don't ask me to come on along
So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

Once I was young and impulsive
I wore every conceivable pin
Even went to the socialist meetings
Learned all the old union hymns
But I've grown older and wiser
And that's why I'm turning you in
So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

Song for Day 32 of a 4 Year Funeral - Señor by Bob Dylan, sung by Diva de Lai

Day 32 - Señor (Tales of Yankee Power) by Bob Dylan, sung by Diva de Lai

Songwriter and Nobel Prize Winner Bob Dylan.

       "Son, this ain't a dream no more, it's the real thing." - Bob Dylan (1978)

     You had to know this song was coming.  Some interpret the song as being religious, arguing that "Señor" refers to their Lord (as it often does), but this song was written well before Dylan's [temporary] conversion, as evidenced on the underrated "Slow Train Coming" and "Saved" albums.  "Señor" is a tale of relentless pursuit and fatalism, more like the theme song to "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid"  than, ironically, "Knocking on Heaven's Door" from that same movie.

Karin Shifrin, Yuval Nachtom, Yossi Fine, Eyal Sucher.

     Other interesting covers abound, including lovely ones by Kappa Danielson, Jackie Greene, Jeffrey Foucault, and the Parkin' Meters Band, but none captures the isolation, persecution and desperation as well as Bob Dylan's versions of this classic, written for his 1978 "Street Legal" album.

     Diva de Lai's, featuring Israeli mezzo-soprano Karin Shifrin, along with Yuval Nachtom (drums), Eyal Sucher (guitar & keyboard), and Yossi Fine (bass), might be the most beautiful, though, and no one should die without hearing it.  This cover is from the group's debut album, "Dylan at the Opera" (in case you needed ideas for that Dylan fan on your gift list).

     This song weaves Dylan's musical simplicity and melodic complexity into a paradox:  it is difficult to mess up but almost impossible to sing.  

Lyrics:

Singer Karin Shifrin of Diva de Lai.

Señor, señor
Can you tell me where we're headin'?
Lincoln County Road or Armageddon?
Seems like I been down this way before
Is there any truth in that, señor?

Señor, señor
Do you know where she is hidin'?
How long are we gonna be ridin'?
How long must I keep my eyes glued to the door?
Will there be any comfort there, señor?

There's a wicked wind still blowin' on that upper deck
There's an iron cross still hanging down from around her neck
There's a marchin' band still playin' in that vacant lot
Where she held me in her arms one time and said, "Forget me not"

Señor, señor
I can see that painted wagon
Smell the tail of the dragon
Can't stand the suspense anymore
Can you tell me who to contact here, señor?

Well, the last thing I remember before I stripped and kneeled
Was that trainload of fools bogged down in a magnetic field
A gypsy with a broken flag and a flashing ring
He said, "Son, this ain't a dream no more, it's the real thing."
 

Earl Gray's 193rd Law.

Señor, señor
You know their hearts is as hard as leather
Well, give me a minute, let me get it together
Just gotta pick myself up off the floor
I'm ready when you are, señor

Señor, señor
Let's overturn these tables
Disconnect these cables
This place don't make sense to me no more
Can you tell me what we're waiting for, señor?

Song for Day 31 of a 4 Year Funeral - "Pacing the Cage" by Bruce Cockburn

Day 31 - "Pacing the Cage" by Bruce Cockburn

     It is difficult to lose elections and have to wait for our next opportunity [in 2018].  Ideally, we raise funds, organize, protest and canvas, but time passes slowly.

     Bruce Cockburn's 1996 tune, "Pacing the Cage", captures this feeling perfectly.   The imagery here is startling.  This is Cockburn at his lyrical best.

Lyrics

Sunset is an angel weeping
Holding out a bloody sword
No matter how I squint I cannot
Make out what it's pointing toward
Sometimes you feel like you've lived too long
Days drip slowly on the page
You catch yourself
Pacing the cage

I've proven who I am so many times
The magnetic strip's worn thin
And each time I was someone else
And every one was taken in
Hours chatter in high places
Stir up eddies in the dust of rage
Set me to pacing the cage

I never knew what you all wanted
So I gave you everything
All that I could pillage
All the spells that I could sing
It's as if the thing were written
In the constitution of the age
Sooner or later you'll wind up
Pacing the cage

Sometimes the best map will not guide you
You can't see what's round the bend
Sometimes the road leads through dark places
Sometimes the darkness is your friend
Today these eyes scan bleached-out land
For the coming of the outbound stage
Pacing the cage
Pacing the cage

Song for Day 30 of a 4 Year Funeral - "More than Likely" by Lenny Gallant and Chris LeDrew

Day 30 - "More than Likely" by Lenny Gallant and Chris LeDrew

      When does romance become political? 

      More specifically, when do romantic lyrics become political?

      The key is not what the author meant--"authorial intent"--but in what the audience understands (i.e. interpretation).  Context is a moveable feast.  For example, John's Stewart's "Anna on a Memory" (released in August, 1967) was clearly not written about Anna Nicole Smith (born November 28, 1967, three months after the song came out), but could be applied to her (as we see in the video).

      Isn't original intent better, if not downright definitive?  Not always.  Lennie Gallant swears he didn't intend "Which Way Does the River Run" (one of the most beautiful "place songs" ever written) to be about any particular city.  He became convinced by fans that it could only be about Winnipeg, aka "Windypeg":  the first city you encounter when leaving Ontario, entering Cree country, a city divided by the Red River,  which runs north, not south (as many believe).

      Let's consider the lyrics to today's offering, minus the choruses (which are often nonsensical la-la-las or irrelevant references anyway), within the confines of a political discussion forum:

Songwriter Lennie Gallant.

more than likely, you will make the call
more than likely, your defences will fall
more than likely, you will see my side
more than likely, I'll be justified
so why am I shaking in my shoes

more than likely, you are all alone
more than likely, staring at your telephone
so why am I shaking in my shoes

I'm risking everything we had
to hold onto my pride
when more than likely you would like me more less dignified
I heard about the man who waits for us to fall
oh it's more than likely
he is also waiting for your call

more than likely, I will play it cool
more than likely, 'cause I am no one's fool
so why am I shaking in my shoes

      Isn't it easy to infer that this is a conversation with/about the current "Hold-My-Beer" "president"?  Hasn't their prophetic and ambiguous nature improved the lyrics since 1997, when the song was released?

Lyrics: 

more than likely, you will make the call
more than likely, your defenses will fall
more than likely, you will see my side
more than likely, I'll be justified
so why am I shaking in my shoes
when more than likely
you're missing me just like I'm missing you

more than likely, you are all alone
more than likely, staring at your telephone
so why am I shaking in my shoes
when more than likely
you're missing me just like I'm missing you

I'm risking everything we had
to hold onto my pride
when more than likely you would like me more less dignified
I heard about the man who waits for us to fall
oh it's more than likely
he is also waiting for your call

more than likely, I will play it cool
more than likely, 'cause I am no one's fool
so why am I shaking in my shoes
when more than likely
you're missing me just like I'm missing you
when more than likely
you're missing me just like I'm missing you

more than likely . . .

Song for Day 29 of a 4 Year Funeral - "Bonny Portmore", performed by Loreena McKennitt

Songwriter Loreena McKennitt.

Day 29 - "Bonny Portmore", performed by Loreena McKennitt

      I'm sure we could produce a movie or series without Loreena McKennitt, but why the hell would we want to?  Consider, among countless others, "Night Ride Across the Caucusus" used in the 1998 movie, "Soldier".  "The Mummers Dance" was used in "The Legacy" television series.  The National Film Board of Canada incorporated "Tango to Evora" in their documentary "The Burning Times" about early European witch trials.  From Wikipedia:

Her music appeared in the movies The Santa Clause, Soldier, Jade, Holy Man, The Mists of Avalon and Tinkerbell; and in the television series Roar, Due South, and Full Circle (Women and Spirituality).

      We're talking about a grand slam of song talents here:  a top ten lyricist (when she writes her own), a premier composer and musician, and a signficant voice.  Before you dismiss the praise heaped on McKennitt as hype/hyperbole, click on some of her early albums and let them convince you:  "The Visit", "The Book of Secrets", "The Mask and the Mirror" and, to stretch a point, "Parallel Dreams". 

      Today is Loreena Isabel Irene McKennitt's birthday.  Born on February 17th, 1957, in Morden, Manitoba, Loreena's crippling shyness did not prevent her from achieving fame before that horrible day in July, 1998, when her fiancé, brother and friend died in a boating accident on Georgian Bay.  We're told that she refused to cancel a command appearance shortly after that tragedy.  Halfway through a song that had been inspired by her intended, McKennitt broke down.  The music stopped.  The lights went out.  After long minutes of darkness, the audience prepared to leave.  Suddenly, the lights came on and Loreena took up where she left off.  The crowd erupted into the longest standing ovation in memory.

     The next time logging concerns try to convince you that old growth fauna is a renewable resource (WTF?) that won't be missed, show people this mournful account of oak clearcut more than 350 years ago.  "Bonny Portmore", from McKennitt's "The Visit" album, is an elegy for a forest in Northern Ireland, cleared in 1664 while rebuilding a castle there.  Apparently, the land was acquired because the down-in-their-luck O'Neill's of Ballinderry had to sell the land to Lord ConWay (no relation to Trump Whisperer, Kellyanne).  There are many different versions, including those that personify the trees as a lost lover, all of which choose from a number of extra verses.

      This version is sung by Enya:

   This is from Highlander III:

      On some lyric sources authorship credits are extended to "Dp, Carsten Heusmann, Jan-Eric Kohrs, Michael Soltau, Frank Peterson".  At the very least, this arrangement smacks of McKennitt, through and through.

Lyrics:

O bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree
For it stood on your shore for many's the long day
Till the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.

O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.

All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying, "Where will we shelter or shall we sleep?"
For the Oak and the Ash, they are all cutten down
And the walls of bonny Portmore are all down to the ground.

O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords of Old England would not purchase Portmore.

      There are far worse ways to spend time than watching Loreena's biographical documentary "No Journey's End".

Links:

 Index of Titles

Song for Day 28 of a 4 Year Funeral - "Sorry, Africa" by Tony Bird

Songwriter Tony Bird.

Day 28 - "Sorry, Africa" by Tony Bird

      Tony Bird was born in Nyasaland (now Malawi), a country and political structure that doesn't exist anymore.  With the collapse of the government there, he moved to South Africa, touring with Ladysmith Black Mambazo (whom some may know for their contribution to Paul Simon's "Graceland") in the 1980s.  As we see in the title song from his 1990 debut album, "Sorry, Africa", apartheid was not to Tony's liking.  And vice versa.  He emigrated to London and, ultimately, New York, where he lives to this day.

      Like John Prine (minus the prosody) or Buffy Sainte Marie (plus the Muppets), there is a childlike quality to most Tony Bird songs, including his hit song, "Mongo Time":

      ...and tributes to African life and societies, including "Zambezi-Zimbabwe", "Out on the Tango", and "Tssik Tssik Tsa".  (This lightness can intrude when Tony addresses serious subjects.)

      While they don't appear so disproportionately large in the performance videos, Tony Bird's hands would be the envy of most basketball players. 

     Quipped one critic:  "The guy could palm a planet." 

      When Bird was afflicted with a weakness that arises when he bends the fingers of his right hand, many folk singers would seek a new profession.  Tony compensated by adopting a unique, upright picking style.

     "His wrists are in one zip code," continued the critic, "his guitar in the next."

      Speaking from experience, I can tell you:  no one forgets a Tony Bird concert.

Lyrics:

Oh, Africa, nobody ever apologized
for when your blood ran red
and your country was stolen by the whites.
They took your land and your home
and shut you down when you tried to refuse
but I'm sorry, Africa,
I'm sorry for my people.
I'm sorry what they did to you.

And Africa, nobody ever said it was wrong
though you cried long and loud,
in your pain when your life was gone.
But no one cared.  They took you as slaves
and changed your life and your culture, too.
But I'm sorry, Africa,
I'm sorry for my people.
I'm sorry what they did to you.

Chorus:

Oh, sorry, Africa, oh, sorry, Africa,
Oh, sorry, Africa, oh, sorry, Africa,
Oh, sorry, Africa, I'm sorry for my people,
I'm sorry what they did to you.

Oh, Africa, history's scolds are blind and mute.
Your wars and past still cry
but today just began anew.
Now they're your friends but the tears still linger
and, of course, my song cannot undo.
But I'm sorry, Africa,
I'm sorry for my people.
I'm sorry what they did to you.

And Africa, still today your blood and tears are falling
as you struggle to discover
just who you are in our world
despite the traitors who squeeze your new lands,
foreigners invade you while droughts torture you.
But I'm sorry, Africa,
I'm sorry for my people.
I'm sorry what they left to you.

Chorus

And Africa, still today the hate goes on
With South Africa, still the shooting of the racist gun,
The apartheid lie denies you life
and they jail, rob, kill and divide you.
But I'm sorry, Africa,
I'm sorry for my people.
I'm sorry what they're doing to you.

And Africa, I too am an African crying
I'm a child of a white,
born into a time so trying.
But I'm ashamed of my racist brothers
and I nearly fell by the hatred too
I'm just sorry, Africa,
I'm sorry for my people.
I'm sorry what they're doing to you.

Chorus

And Africa, because some of my people are blind
please don't think we're all the same,
all one bad white kind
for there are many who know the truth
and we find, die, cry and pray for you.
But I'm sorry, Africa,
I'm sorry for my people.
I'm sorry what they're doing to you.

And Africa, after all the fighting is done
sadly we'll see
there was no need for the blood to run,
that there's peace and caring and respect,
not illusions and fears and untruths.
But I'm sorry, Africa,
I'm sorry for my people.
I'm sorry what they're doing to you.

Chorus

Song for Day 27 of a 4 Year Funeral - "Peace Will Come" by Melanie Safka

Day 27 - "Peace Will Come" by Melanie Safka

Songwriter Melanie Safka.

     Fair Warning:  If you are too young to remember Melanie, prepare to fall in love.

     Born February 3rd, 1947, Melanie Anne Safka-Schekeryk, known simply as "Melanie", was the daughter of immigrants:  a Ukrainian father fleeing the famines there, and an Italian jazz-singing mother.  A 1969 spoken word piece, "Candles in the Rain", about her experience singing at Woodstock as the crowd lit the sky with candles, matches and lighters [before this was cool], lead to her first #1 hit in America:  "Lay Down".  In 1971 came "Brand New Key", aka "the roller skate song", stricken from some radio playlists for "sexual innuendo" (WTF?).  Much of her success came from "Look What They've Done to My Song Ma",  (performed here with Miley Cyrus) and covers like "Dust in the Wind" (by Kansas), "Ruby Tuesday"  and "Wild Horses" (Rolling Stones).  She was Billboard's No. 1 Top Female Vocalist in 1972.  From Wikipedia:

      In 1970, Melanie was the only artist to ignore the court injunction banning the Powder Ridge Rock Festival, playing for the crowd on a homemade stage powered by Mister Softee trucks.

      Melanie is what has become an endangered species:  an advocate for peace in a world dominated by hawks hawking weaponry.  She's not about to go quietly, as evidenced by her trademark hit:   "Peace Will Come", about selling raffle tickets predicting humankind's future.  For those of us under sixty, two questions arise:

1.  How successful have pacifists been?  Ignore the distracting news about pissants with pipe bombs 70+ years after we were dropping atomic ones;  watch how much harder arms manufacturers and their governments have to work to stave off the threat of peace. 

2.  The song is optimistic, albeit cautiously.  So why does it make your mother cry?

Lyrics:

There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one
There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one
For sometimes when I am feeling as big as the land
With the velvet hill in the small of my back

And my hands are playing the sand
And my feet are swimming in all of the waters
All of the rivers are givers to the ocean
According to plan, according to man

Well sometimes when I am feeling so grand
And I become the world
And the world becomes a man
And my song becomes a part of the river
 

I cry out to keep me just the way I am
According to plan
According to man, according to plan
According to man, according to plan

Oh there's a chance peace will come
In your life, please buy one
Oh there's a chance peace will come
In your life, please buy one

For sometimes when we have reached the end
With the velvet hill in the small of my backs
And our hands are clutching the sand
Will our blood become a part of the river

All of the rivers are givers to the ocean
According to plan, according to man
There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one.
There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one

For sometime when we have reached the end
With the velvet hill in the small of my backs
And our hands are clutching the sand.

There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one
There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one...

    You were warned.

Editing Note:  While various lyric listings cite Tom Paxton (who did release a different song with the same title in 1970) as an author, discographies include "Arranged By – John Abbott, Lee Holdridge" but do not mention Paxton.  Thanks to "BOHICA" on DailyKos for the heads-up!

Links:

Song for Day x of a 4 Year Funeral - Index of Titles

Song for Day 26 of a 4 Year Funeral - "Time After Time" - by Cindi Lauper and Rob Hyman, sung by Eva Cassidy

Singer Eva Cassidy (1963-1996)

Day - "Time After Time" - by Cindi Lauper and Rob Hyman, sung by Eva Cassidy


      Valentines Day is set aside to honor the two things more powerful than power itself.

       Of course, the first of those is love, described in poems--don't get me started on the poems!--and songs such as "The Rose", sung by Bette Midler, "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face", as sung by Robert Flack (and others), "I Will Always Love You" done by Whitney Houston, John Stewart's "Looking Back Johanna", Bob Dylan's "Sara", Kris Kristofferson--yes, Kris Kristofferson--with "Stallion", Lennie Gallant's [literally] haunting "Pieces of You", "Annie's Song" by John Denver, "Love Lifts You Up", by Buffy Sainte Marie and performed by Joe Cocker, and "Angie", by the Rolling Stones, sung by Mick Jagger:

      ...and "How Can I Tell You?", by Cat Stevens:

      Cindi Lauper's hit song, "Time After Time", co-written with Rob Hyman and released on January 27th of 1984, got its name from reading a television guide description of a 1979 sci-fi movie by that name.  (The film starred Malcolm McDowell, fresh from "Caligula", David Warner and Mary Steenburgen.  It was about time-tracking a "Jack the Ripper" character.) 

       The melody has a somewhat demanding 13 note range.  It was the last one written for her debut album because of the inspiration for the line "the second hand unwinds":   discovering while recording the song that the producer's wristwatch was broken.  In essence, the song reinvented itself on the fly.

       Eva Cassidy's memorable cover is from the Blues Alley jazz supper club in Georgetown, DC, on the 3rd January 1996, ten months before her death.

Lyrics:

Songwriter Cindi Lauper.

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
And think of you
Caught up in circles
Confusion is nothing new
Flashback, warm nights
Almost left behind
Suitcases of memories,
Time after
Sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me, I can't hear
What you've said
Then you say, go slow
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds
If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time
If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time
After my picture fades and darkness has
Turned to gray
Watching through windows
You're wondering if I'm okay
Secrets stolen from deep inside
The drum beats out of time

Co-author Rob Hyman.

If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time
You said go slow
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds
If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time
If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time
Time after time
Time after time
Time after time
Time after time
Time after time
Time after time
Time after
Time


       The Percy Shelley poem "Ozymandias" makes it obvious how much stronger time is than power.  See also "Sic transit gloria mundi."

       What is time, though?  Libraries are filled with philosophical (e.g. Heraclitus:  "You could not step twice into the same river.") and scientific ("Brief History of Time" by Stephen Hawking) theories but I like my answers simpler: 

       Time is motion.  If frozen at the molecular level, like Han Solo in carbonite, we will reanimate the same age as when we entered stasis.  If all activity were ceased everywhere, no time will have passed.  As for Trump's "hold-my-beer" "presidency", let us take today to remind ourselves that this, too, shall pass (though not soon enough!).

       Today being Valentines Day, this is dedicated to the one I love.