Monday, February 8, 2016

Wristband

On February 6, 2016, on Prairie Home Companion, Paul Simon debuted this song.

When someone gives the ticket-taker their tickets at concerts these days, they receive a wristband, a paper strip with a bit of tape to seal it to itself, as a bracelet. It serves as a ticket stub, allowing those who leave to return.

In this song, the hapless narrator is the performer. He "stepped outside the backstage door" into the alley or parking lot behind the theater, to "breathe some nicotine" (which is to say, smoke a cigarette) and check his phone for messages...

...when he heard an ominous "click." Yes, he had locked himself out of his own theater. Now, he resigns himself to walking around to the front to get back in.

Only, once there, he is confronted by a bouncer who will not let him in without, you guessed it, a wristband: "A wristband, my man... If you don't have a wristband/ You don't get through the door."

Now, the speaker's dander is up: "My heart beats like a fist/ When I meet some dude with an attitude/ Sayin' 'Hey, you can't do that, or this."

There is no grappling with him, physically, either: "The man was large, a well-dressed 6-foot-8." And he takes his job very seriously, "Like St. Peter, standing guard at the Pearly [Gate]."

Brawn being out of the question, the speaker opts for brains, and tries reason: "I don't need a wristband/ My band is on the bandstand." This is my show, sir-- kindly let me inside where I can perform it.

We imagine the situation is eventually resolved-- the performer had his phone on him because he was checking his messages, remember? He probably called someone inside to come let him in.

But we don't get to hear that part of the story. Instead, the speaker realizes that he is in a situation that others know all too well-- that of being shut out from access to the better aspects of life, all for want of a "wristband."

And so the song takes a turn: "The riots started slowly/ With the homeless and the lowly." And after the economically disadvantaged, came the rural dwellers in small towns: "It spread into the heartland/ Towns that never got a wristband."

Then it spread still further, to the poor teens: "Kids that can't afford a wristband/ Whose anger is a shorthand/ For... 'If you don't get a wristband, my man/ Then you don't get through the door,'" and, by the way, "You'll never get a wristband."

This irksome incident, or not being able to enter his own concert for lack of a wristband, was just the basic disenfranchisement of whole swaths of society writ small. But it takes someone with the compassion of a Paul Simon to make that connection.

Musical Note:
The rhythms here are flamenco ones. Simon had been listening to this music and incorporated an actual flamenco troupe, from Boston, for this and other tracks on the album. It was actually two years between the recording of these performers-- a dancers, rhythmic clappers, and a percussionist-- and the writing of this track.

One of the other tracks that used the flamenco troupe was "The Riverbank." That song and this one share the same clapping rhythm and the same bass line.

Speaking of clapping, an Italian musician who goes by Clap! Clap! also contributed to this track. His real name is Digi Alessio and his genre is electronic dance music.  He also contributed to "Werewolf" and "Street Angel."

Next Song: Horace and Pete.

13 comments:

  1. Your blog is remarkable!
    I'm a big fan of Paul Simon from Brazil
    In Wristband I think he sings Kids that can't afford a cool brand, is that right?
    Kudos on the blog!

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  2. I like this. Hope it's on his new album. Which, of course, will give you a little more to write about.

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  3. Ben-- Thank you! And quite a bit more, I hope. Simon is "only" 74 years old!

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  4. Luiz-- Yes, that is what the lyric sounds like to me.

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  5. Paul just did the theme to Louis CK's new show "Horace and Pete."

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  6. Matt-- Thanks for the heads up! I will follow up on that next week!

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  7. I heard this song last month and instantly got the connection that you laid out in this post. BTW, I saw him last week at JazzFest in New Orleans. He and his band NAILED this song.

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  8. Keith43-- Thanks, and I'm jealous.

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  9. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

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  10. "My axe is on the bandstand
    My band is on the floor"
    could perhaps also read as a passive aggressive threat, followed by the accelerated heart beat previously mentioned, and the next verse being the blood rush to the brain where an internal conflict plays out in one’s head, equating the situation to a national injustice, ‘you know who I am?’ scenario, the indignity, self-importance of a ‘star’, etc etc etc, oh the joy of lyrics. Thanks, BD.

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  11. Brian-- It's common enough to refer to a guitar as an "axe," so I don't hear a threat in this word. You can really only threaten a person (especially one who is 6-foot-8) with a weapon you are actually holding, anyway.

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  12. Exactly, he used the word axe instead of guitar for a reason, and then all hell breaks loose, but not 'actually'. Anyway, there is an amount of humour a lot of people just don't get, no worries. Small man, big scary world.

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  13. Brian--
    I understand the point you are making-- that he uses "axe" as a threat-- I just don't agree with it. Such things happen in a big, scary world.

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