The Werewolf

Of all the classic movie monsters, the werewolf is obviously the most animalistic. A vampire can be fought with a whole arsenal of weapons, and a zombie like Frankenstein's monster or a mummy is ploddingly slow. But a werewolf is not undead-- he's very much alive, completely relentless, and full of teeth and claws.

We never really know what the werewolf in this song represents. (In an interview, Simon said it was planetary environmental disaster, but that's not even hinted at in the lyrics themselves.) If anything, the song implies it's an impending economic collapse-- the rich will either cause it by greed, or the poor by revolt.

But let's start where the song does. In Milwaukee.

A man who lives there with a "fairly decent" life, career, and wife is-- seeming out of nowhere-- stabbed and killed by that wife: "Now they are shopping for a fairly decent afterlife." Why does it say "they," which means she is dead, too? Was it a murder-suicide? Was she caught, convicted, and executed?

We don't know if the wife kills her husband because she is dominant and he won't submit, or because he is domineering and she kills him out of rebellion. The fact that he only feels she's "fairly decent" might anger a spouse, but to the point of murder? What about couples' counseling, or divorce, first?

Now we get into the economic point: "Life is a lottery a lot of people lose." And "the winners"? They "eat all the nuggets and order extra fries." OK, there is a class war: the rich declared war on the poor, and easily, handily won.

Next comes the first ominous mention of the Werewolf. All we know is that it's "coming," by the sounds of its "howling" and "prowling." "The Werewolf is coming," the speaker tells "Bill" and "Joe." These seem like easy rhymes, but they also personalize the threat (Springsteen, by comparison, often refers to the listener with the anonymous "hey there, mister."). It's not just coming, it's coming for you.

The problem--whatever it is-- is "national" The sides are staked: "Ignorance and Arrogance, a national debate." This could refer to certain political parties, and how they see each other. And these two sides will debate-- any issue-- agreeing on nothing.

But as Simon said in "The Coast," "that is worth some money." How? "Put the fight in Vegas-- that's a million-dollar gate." The take "could be healthy." But who wins? Well, the box office revenue "all goes to the wealthy" no matter the victor in the ring.

So, this is a problem! Not to the speaker: "I know it's raining, but we're coming to the end of the rainbow," presumably where the pot of gold awaits.

This point is never paid off. Instead, we shift to a quick jab at the pervasiveness of surveillance: "The lying and the spying through." This results in a retreat into privacy, isolation, and anonymous screen names: "Oh, you don't know me? OK, I don't know you."

But wait-- what about... what was it? Oh, right, the Werewolf. It's still coming! So we prepare for disaster: "You better stock up on water, canned goods." But be a dear about it, won't you, and "loot some for the old folks who can't loot for themselves."

And now, the wolf is at the door: "Doorbell's ringing... it's probably the werewolf." It's a "full moon," people, and it's already "a quarter to twelve." (We should also probably mention that this Werewolf is, right at the end of the song, revealed to be female, which ties it in with the murderess at the start of the song.)

So, what is the werewolf? It's any big issue that people refuse to deal with because of how big it is-- poverty, the deficit, environmental calamity, the wealth gap-- you name it. It could be a national issue, or some rage your spouse has toward you that you have no idea about until the "sushi knife" is making sashimi of your aorta.

"Life is what happens while you're making other plans," mused John Lennon. And the werewolf is what's coming when you refuse to deal with it before the moon is full, or even during daylight.

So let's not wait until "midnight... when the wolves bite."


Musical Note:

Flamenco music was a major inspiration for Simon on this album, especially the rhythmic stamping and clapping. One of his percussionists, Jamey Haddad, introduced him to a Boston flamenco troupe. They ended up recording the basic rhythm tracks for four of the songs: this one, "The Riverbank," the title track "Stranger to Stranger,"  and the first song to debut from the album, "Wristband."

The twangy sound that opens the song (and the whole album) is made by an Indian instrument called the "gopichand." That twang sounded, to Simon, like the word "werewolf."

As if Spanish and Indian music were not enough, an Italian EDM (electronic dance music) composer who goes by Clap! Clap! (his birth name is Digi G'Aleessio) also collaborated on this track (and also "Wristband" and "Street Angel") via the Internet from his studio on the island of Sardinia.

Next Song: (Street Angel.
Here's the thing. Werewolf is the third track Simon has released before the new album in its entirety drops. Which, as of this writing, is just over a week away. So probably no more freebies before then, is my guess. The whole album is only 11 tracks long.

This track is the first on the album and Wristband is the second; those have been released and I have written about them [Cool Papa Bell is Track 10]. The third is The Clock, but that's an instrumental. So the one after that is Street Angel.)




  

Getting Ready for Christmas Day

When a musician tries on a new style or sound, an excited album often results. By the time of the follow-up, the boil has died down to a simmer. But that just means more focus, not less energy, once the new techniques have been mastered and controlled. For instance, after the ebullient Graceland, Simon returned with the relatively subdued Rhythm of the Saints. Similarly, after the kid-in-a-candy-store sound of Surprise, he came back with the more contemplative So Beautiful or So What. Now, the electronics have been stirred into Simon's alchemy, along with the folk, gospel, world, and other sounds he had already added.

While this song is ostensibly about Christmas, we can expect that it will not find its way onto any Yuletide compilation or caroling songbook. That is because, as Christmas songs go, it is not only somber but frustrated and even cynical in tone. The rewrite of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" contains the line "Hang a shining star upon the highest bough," but the original line was "We'll have to muddle through somehow." Which is more the tone here.

It starts with a man bemoaning how "money matters" are "weighing" on him. The timing of this financial crisis is in line with Christmas-gift buying season. Even before he mentions the holiday, he speaks of "merry" music, then explains that "Santa Claus is coming to town," and of course someone has to buy that bagful of presents: "It all comes down to working man's pay."

Then the song takes an unexpected twist. We shift to the voice of a preacher, one Rev. J.M. Gates, in a sermon he recorded back in 1941. Based in Atlanta, Gates released some 200 recordings-- both sermons and songs-- over nearly two decades. This homily comes from late in his recording career.

For Gates, Christmas Day sounds more like Judgement Day. He says that, while you are "getting ready for Christmas Day," so are the "undertaker... jailer, lawyer, [and] police."

The workingman now returns, this time telling about his nephew, a soldier fighting the War in Iraq. In fact, he has returned to battle no fewer than three times! His uncle wryly opines that the fighter will be defending our freedom of religion while "eating [his] turkey dinner/ On some mountaintop on Pakistan." As for the war, for all of the carnage and expense, it's "ending up the way it began."

Now it's Gates' turn again. This time, he says you might be planning a trip for the holiday. However, you just as easily "be laying in some lonesome grave" by then. You never know, he shrugs, "where you'll be." You could be saying "I'm going and see [sic] my relatives in a distant land," thinking you mean that literally, when in fact that "distant land" might be Heaven... where we all have relatives.

Then the workingman has the final word: "If I could tell my Mom and Dad"-- "if" implying that he can't, as they have passed on-- "the things we never had/ Never mattered." Yes, he and his siblings never had much... but, he says, "we were always OK." But here he is, knocking himself out with two jobs to buy presents. So what is he doing?

Christmas is a time of expectation that almost never matches, in reality, the fantasy it engenders. Undertakers, police officers and soldiers work on Christmas, and at grim jobs at that. The presents received are almost immediately forgotten (or broken) no matter how long it took to earn the money for them.

Further, the "merry" music piped into the stores and our of our televisions drowns out the sacred meaning of the day. Forget the gift-wrapping, the cake-baking, and the tree-trimming-- Jesus is about to be born! How are you getting ready for that?

Musical Note:
Simon has been married to Edie Brickell since 1992, and he co-produced her first solo album, 1994's Picture Perfect Morning. However, her backing vocals here may be the first time they have been recorded singing together.

Brickell, of course, is a singer-songwriter in her own right, having scored hits with her band New Bohemians; their best-known track is "What I Am," with its famous line: "What I am is what I am-- are you what you are, or what?" She is now the lead singer of The Gaddabouts, named after its founder (and longtime Simon session player), master drummer Steve Gadd.

And in 2013, she released a song with another longstanding friend of Simon's, comedian and bluegrass banjo player Steve Martin.

In addition to the Gates sermon, the song also samples "Me Deixa Em Paz (Leave Me Alone)" by Brazilian singer-songwriter Milton Nascimento, with whom Simon has collaborated before, notably on "Spirit Voices." Literally, the title of the sampled song means "leave me in peace."

IMPACT:
Simon is still on tour for this album, as of this writing. It was very successful, reaching #4 in the US (and Sweden) and #6 in the UK (and also Croatia, Denmark, and the Netherlands), going all the way to #2 in Norway. It also hit the Top Ten in Canada, The Czech Republic, and Ireland... the Top 50 in other EU nations and Australia, and even #75 in Japan.

Critically, it was Rolling Stone's #3 best album of 2011, and received high praise all around.

Next Song: The Afterlife

I Don't Believe

The "fairy-tale" referred to in this song-- "breadcrumbs in a... forest"-- is the Grimm Brothers' "Hansel and Gretl."

The speaker (probably Simon, given whom he quotes later) begins this song by saying that another fairy-tale we hear is that  "acts of kindness... lead us past dangers." But "I don't believe," he says, that this is the case. Continuing the image of a tale told around a campfire or hearth-fire,  he says "I lean closer to the fire, but I'm cold." He wants to believe, that is, but his skepticism prevents it.

Then he tells another tale, about the creation of the world: "The earth was born in a storm" could refer to either The Big Bang or Genesis 1:6-7. The next words seem to be taken from Genesis 1:9-- "The waters receded, the mountains were formed"-- and scientists might agree that at some point, this happened through plate tectonics (adding that such movement is still happening), and that maybe the "waters" were in the form of icy glaciers. Simon's point is that in either case, there is a narrative, and you can choose to accept it or not.

The next line comes from a more recent source-- his wife! The "E.B." the quote is attributed to is Edie Brickell, who was remarking on the 2004 Bush vs. Kerry election that "the universe loves a drama." It's not enough that there be a narrative. It must be... dramatic! Even if it's just a bunch of exit-poll statistics.

What spurred all of this deep rumination on the subjective nature of reality? "I got a call from my broker/ The broker informed me I'm broke." Well. That could certainly shake up one's day. The breadcrumbs in the story were eaten by birds, you may recall, which is why the children could not find their way back home and ended up confronting the witch.

The speaker feels lost and betrayed. He feels that his "guardian angel" is, instead of guarding him, "taunt[ing]" him. Meanwhile, his children and wife, ignorant of their sudden impoverishment, are enjoying the "warm summer evening" by "laughing" and "brushing her... hair," with "not a whisper of care."

So here he was, being a responsible adult with investments and such, and then, poof! It is not surprising he is questioning the ephemeral nature of his narrative.

Yet, if he lacks faith in "acts of kindness," he has faith in something else. "I don't believe a heart can be filled to the brim/ Then vanish like mist." Kindness is one thing-- it's a sheet of ice over a lake that may or may not be thick enough to walk on. But the heart is a boat, a bridge. If you have a firm relationship, you don't need to "depend," as Blanche DuBois does, on the "kindness of strangers."

Unless... "Maybe the heart is part of the mist/ and that's all that... could ever exist." What if his wife leaves because of this? He's been divorced twice already! How silly to trust love-- hasn't he learned?

"Maybe and maybe and maybe some more"-- This cry of despair echoes Macbeth's "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow." And like the weary King, he curses himself for having faith in anything:  "Maybe's the exit that I'm looking for." Macbeth is looking for an exit, too: "Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a... tale told by an idiot... signifying nothing." A tale, or a "fairy-tale," perhaps?

But then, another call... "My broker said he was mistaken." So he is not "broke" at all, and he luckily did not worry his wife for nothing. The broker adds that he hopes that his "faith isn't shaken." He's a bit late for that...

Well, most people would be overjoyed at such news, and our speaker is. "Acts of kindness," he says, "release the spirit with a whoop and a shout."

But even in this state of relief, he feels changed. What if the second call had not come? What if something like this were to actually happen? Just because it wasn't real this time does not mean it could not someday be so.

So he closes by saying that, while he has not necessarily written off prayer altogether (which is good, considering "Wartime Prayers" was just two songs ago), that the idea of an organized religion is no longer appealing. If anything, life obviously rests daintily on chaos-- on plate tectonics and other shifting realities-- to simply accept and trust, to impose a structure on a faith.

He says, "I don't believe we were born to be sheep... To pantomime prayers with the hands of a clock." This last line can be read two ways. One is "[along] with the hands of a clock," at set times. The other is "with hands like clock hands," with rigidity and a mechanical attitude. If life is fluid, then prayer must be as well. You should be able to pray when you need to!

And maybe you should not believe in fairy tales or rely on kindness or even have perfect faith in love.  Maybe faith has to be be as fluid as life itself is, with swells and ebbs and tides.

Galileo responded to accusations that his science was a form of heresy by saying that he did not believe that God gave us brains and then wanted us to not use them. Questioning is not the opposite of faith-- it is a form of faith. It is the belief that, even when we question, there is an answer.

So no, the speaker says, "I don't believe... I do something better: I trust."

Next Song: Another Galaxy

Rockabilly Music

With the possible exception of Elvis Costello, it is hard to think of anyone who has co-written songs with a wider variety of artists that Paul Simon. He has collaborated on songs with everyone from Peter Yarrow to Philip Glass, and co-authored songs with writers South Africa, South America... and, here, "The South" of the United States of America.

The co-author this time is under-appreciated rock'n'roll Founding Father Carl Perkins. The occasion is Perkins' album Go Cat Go!, itself a reference to his song "Blue Suede Shoes" (Yes, it is his song; he wrote it and performed it. Elvis Presley just covered it). I will list the other guests on the album below.

The song is episodic in nature. The opening line is the intriguing: "It was murder, but we got there." "There" turns out to be a bar that a band arrives at, "minutes after midnight." In the second verse, the drummer seems "nervous," but the speaker urges him to solve that by doing his job: "Just get that rhythm goin’, boy/ Gotta get them people on the floor.”

The next verses are about seeing "a shadow [that] crossed my bedpost/ Early in the morning." The speaker's reaction is shock: "It took me like a prisoner/ Fighting in the war." His next reaction is to both seek reassurance from, then reassure, his wife, whose name is Val: “My angel/ Heaven’s in your arms, girl,/ We’re in the hands of The Lord.”

The chorus, as the title indicates, is about the type of music that is being played: "Rockabilly music/ Ain’t nothin’ to it/ It’s just a hopped-up country song." This is somewhat true; as the word itself indicates, the genre is a hybrid of "rock" and "hillbilly" music, or bluegrass. This is illustrated with the image of "Casey Jones rollin’ into Jackson, Tennesee/ Where I call home." Perkins is from Tiptonville, TN; its closest major city is Jackson.

Casey Jones was a real person; he was a train engineer who died trying, but failing, to prevent a crash in Jackson. He has emerged as a hero, enshrined in folk, country and rock songs, including one by the Grateful Dead (my understanding, however, is that he was not "high on cocaine" at the time of the accident, otherwise he surely would not have been the only fatality of the wreck). That said, his legend does neatly tie those forms of music together as well as Perkins' guitar does.

The chorus relates well to the first verses; it is about music, and they are about a band. The
relationship to the second set of verses is more thematic. Rockabilly music may seem all about good times and partying, but there is a "shadowy" edge to it, as well as romance and religion.

Speaking of which, the next verse starts with a religious observation: "A rich man’s a pauper/ In The First Bank of Heaven." Is the speaker a rich man? Hardly: "I knock on wood for five years/ Under the sword."

This might be The Sword of Damocles, which Greek myth has hanging by a thread over poor Damocles while he tries and fails to enjoy a feast; the lesson teaches him that kings are not as happy with luxury as he thought, given the constant threat of assassination that comes with the crown. Here, the image indicates that the life of a musician is not as glamorous as it looks, given the constant threat of bankruptcy. Still, if this is one's calling, one persists: "But you keep on pickin’/ Rockin’ for a livin’." "Pickin'" as in picking a guitar, of course.

Then again, this thought, but with a modification: "Heaven’s in your arms/ I’m in the hands of The Lord." Whose arms, this time? The audience's, perhaps. But even with their embrace of adulation, he is still reliant of Providence for his livelihood.

This idea is quite biographical of Perkins, actually. He was one one the artists on the seminal Sun label, along with Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and later Roy Orbison. Perkins wrote "Blue Suede Shoes," and it was carrying him up the charts. Then he had a crash (shades of Casey Jones?) which laid him up for a while. Long enough, anyway, for his other Sun label-mate, one young Elvis Presley, to pick up the song and run off to superstardom with it (To be fair, Elvis was very nice looking, and could sing and dance, too.). Whether this was malicious or merely Sun's attempt to keep the song in the spotlight until Perkins recovered, I do not know. Nevertheless, when the recovered Perkins began to play his own song again, he was accused of copying Elvis! History records who became The King of Rock and Roll, and who did not.

The next chorus begins the same, but this time shifts the location: "Rhythm from the Delta/ Of the muddy Mississippi/ In my bones." While the Delta is part of the history of blues (as in "The Delta Blues," an acoustic form), jazz (as in "Dixieland jazz," with the clarinets and straw hats), and of course zydeco, I don't know of any specific connection to rockabilly. In fact, the "hillbillies" live in the Appalachian Mountains (the "hill" part of their nickname) and ultimately originate in Ireland... while the Delta folk are of French descent and live in the marshes called "the bayou." Then again, Simon himself references "The Mississippi Delta" in "Graceland," drawing a line from there to Elvis.

The last verse has the singer finding both financial success and spiritual peace. Instead of having a "sword" over his head, he has shiny shoes on his feet: "I got a new pair of wingtips/ Cost me $200." Also, he has sharpened his axe, investing in the tool of his trade: "A fresh set of strings on/ My Fender guitar."

And his outlook could not be more hopeful: "I’m lookin’ at a sunrise/ In a cloudless sky." Nature is even harmonizing with his art: "A songbird’s singing/ Searching for the Morning Star."

This last line, which is repeated, can be read two ways. One is that, now that he is financially set, he can afford the luxury of really seeking true inner peace. The other is that, while he is financially set, he is still the restless, ambitious road warrior he has always been; the "sunrise" is not enough, now that he has it, and he next seeks a "star."

MUSICAL NOTE:

Perkins, if he was pre-emptively dethroned as King of Rock and Roll, will have to "settle" for being King of Rockabilly. This album is a tribute to him comprised of both his classic material (some in earlier covers) and new material written for the project. Also appearing on the album are (deep breath): John Fogerty, Tom Petty, Bono, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Joe Walsh, Jimi Hendrix, Rick Danko, Levon Helm, Dr. John, Clarence Clemons, "David" (not "Dave") Grissom, Charlie Daniels, Nils Lofgren, Eric Clapton, Billy Preston... and solo appearances by every Beatle. (Note: some of these performers only play on their tracks, and do not sing).

On "Rockabilly Music," Simon is joined by his son, Harper, and by Baghiti Kumalo, who has backed him since Graceland. Musically, "Rockabilly Music" has as much in common with Rhythm of the Saints as it does Perkins' work. Paul also plays percussion on the track "Don't Stop the Music" and he and Harper back Perkins on guitar on "A Mile Out of Memphis," neither of which credits Simon as a lyricist.

Next Song: El Coquito/Born in Puerto Rico