Song for Day 56 - "Biko" by Peter Gabriel

Day 56 - "Biko" by Peter Gabriel

Confucius:   "They may crush cinnabar, yet they do not take away its color; one may burn a fragrant herb, yet it will not destroy the scent."

Songwriter Peter Gabriel.

      Conscientious and experienced officials are being demoted or discarded.  When asked to do the inappropriate, some have resigned, only to be replaced by far less scrupulous amateurs.  We need to develop innovative ways for government functionaries to oppose the unthinkable without going full-blown "Russia House".

      This being the 56th Day, the time has come to speak of Isoroku Takano.  His first name is Japanese for "56", his father's age when he was born.  Little Isoroku had the good fortune to be adopted by the influential Yamamoto family.  We know him as Admiral Yamamoto, the Harvard grad who implemented the attack on Pearl Harbor, despite being against the initiative. 

Isoroku Yamamoto at 26.

      Isoroku was dearly loved by one and all, including the Emperor.  As a junior officer, Yamamoto had been given another order he disliked.  Japan had more pilots than planes.  The "solution" to this "problem" (seriously, WTP?) was to cut down on the number of flyers by having them swim [coincidentally] Hiroshima Bay.  Yamamoto voiced his objections but was overruled by the powers that were.  Strict military protocol was not the only thing preventing Isoroku from giving these idiots the finger;  he'd lost his index and middle ones* in the Battle of Tsushima.

      On the day of the test there was a huge ceremony, after which the pilots lined up along the water's edge and dove into the bay on command.  When the last of them hit the water, Yamamoto surprised one and all by stripping down and joining them.  The entire general staff freaked.  Each knowing his ass was grass if anything happened to Hirohito's home-boy, they ran along the shoreline in their formal uniforms, ceremonial swords and knee-high boots, screaming obscenities, waving batons and ordering Yamamoto to GTF out of the water.  Puffing and wheezing, these septuagenarians were relieved when Isoroku made it to the other side.  They must have soiled their dress uniforms when they witnessed what happened next.  Not certain that he'd made his point with these incorrigible hacks, Isoroku climbed onto the rocks, stood up, saluted his superiors, and dove back into the ocean for a return trip.

      Need I add that there were no more "swimming tests"?

Beware the Ides of March!

      As for the rest of us, the arts have given us an equally inventive and effective way to oppose injustices of the past, present and future.  By definition, every masterpiece will survive the inequities it describes.  In addition to other media, we have music as a universal language.  We don't always need to flood social media with speeches.  We can post tunes and let the melodies and lyrics speak for themselves.  We don't need to speak of the First Amendment as an abstraction;  its reality can be made evident by playing protest songs, starting with those removed from our airwaves:  "Burn, Baby, Burn" (by Bruce Cockburn),  "Black Day in July" (by Gordon Lightfoot)  or "Requiem For The Masses" (The Association), to name a few.  There is no requirement to harangue less politicalized friends with heavy-handed rants. 

     Just play the damned song.

 Lyrics: "Biko" (1980)

September '77
Port Elizabeth weather fine
It was business as usual
In police room 619
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Yihla Moja, Yihla Moja
-The man is dead

When I try to sleep at night
I can only dream in red
The outside world is black and white
With only one color dead
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Yihla Moja, Yihla Moja
-The man is dead

You can blow out a candle
But you can't blow out a fire
Once the flames begin to catch
The wind will blow it higher
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Yihla Moja, Yihla Moja
-The man is dead

And the eyes of the world are
watching now
watching now

* Yamamoto lost these fingers in his left hand;  he'd be saluting these prats with his right hand.

Song for Day 53 - "Requiem For The Masses" by The Association

Day 53 - "Requiem For The Masses" by The Association

1968: top: Jim Yester, Brian Cole, Ted Bluechel;
bottom: Russ Giguere, Larry Ramos, Terry Kirkman

     Founding members of the California pop group, "The Association", 23 year olds Jules Alexander and Terry Kirkman, met in Hawaii in 1962 but couldn't get together again until the former was released from the U.S. Navy the next year.  The band's first hit was "Along came Mary", from the same album as "Cherish", in 1966.  Subsequently we saw "Windy", "Never my Love" and "Requiem for the Masses" in 1967.
    
     "Requiem for the Masses" was motivated by a frightful flight to Milwaukee.  Its central theme is, loosely, violent spectacles but the subject matter migrates, beginning with the death of a bull-fighter, fashioned after Federico García Lorca's elegy to his friend,  "Llanto por Ignacio Sánchez Mejías" (which may work better as a poem  than as a song). Sadly, so much is lost in translation to English language and performance standards that few will doubt how poetry died in anglophone cultures.

Davey Moore and 'Sugar' Ramos,
Dodger Stadium, March 21, 1963

      "Requiem for the Masses" then seems to reference boxer Davey Moore, (1933-1963), who died of injuries sustained in the ring  and was the subject of Bob Dylan's "Who Killed Davey Moore?" and of "Davey Moore" by Phil Ochs.  This death inspired the 2004 film "Million Dollar Baby", starring Clint  Eastwood, Hilary Swank and Morgan Freeman.  Since Moore's accident boxing rings must have 4 padded ropes, the bottom one being more slack.

      The song then attacks racism and protests [the Vietnam "television"] war and nationalism (i.e. red, [pallid] white and blue of the flag).   The song's author, Terry Kirkman, insists that the Nixon White House asked Warner Brothers Records to stop promoting the song and it faded from sight.

Lyrics:

Songwriter Terry Kirkman.

Requiem aeternam, requiem aeternam
Mama, mama, forget your pies
Have faith they won't get cold
And turn your eyes to the bloodshot sky
Your flag is flying full

[Chorus]
At half mast, for the matadors
Who turned their backs to please the crowd
And all fell before the bull

Red was the color of his blood flowing thin
Pallid white was the color of his lifeless skin
Blue was the color of the morning sky
He saw looking up from the ground where he died
It was the last thing ever seen by him

Kyrie Eleison
Mama, mama, forget your pies
Have faith they won't get cold
And turn your eyes to the bloodshot sky
Your flag is flying full

[Chorus]

Black and white were the figures that recorded him
Black and white was the newsprint he was mentioned in
Black and white was the question that so bothered him
He never asked, he was taught not to ask
But was on his lips as they buried him

Rex tremendae majestatis
Requiem aeternam, Requiem aeternam