Here, Esmerelda, Sal's mother, speaks. He is in jail, but she is somewhat trapped as well, as she explains.
She writes to her son in prison, using his adult name, Salvador. She tells him that lunch is over, but even though it is noon, there is no sunlight in her apartment: "The buildings here, tall as our mountains/ Slice through the windows and cut off the sun."
By "our mountains," she means those back home, in Puerto Rico. She is homesick. Even if life was hard there... well, it is hard in New York, too, but not as pretty outside! Still she vows to Salvador to "never return until you are free." Thoughts of the homeland fo cheer her, especially when she hears the Aguialdo-- a Hispanic Christmas carol of sorts-- to which she dances with her daughter, Aurea.
She confides to him that she has been "unlucky" in love. Her Puerto Rican husband drank and ran around. Gonzales, the preacher who brought her to America, was a "hypocrite," who "beat you and preached about repentance/ Has gone." Actually, she left Gonzales, after he abandoned Sal to his prison fate.
Esmerelda might also point out that the church that took them in to begin with was also, ultimately, cruel to Salvador. Both lands, both husbands, both churches, have made promises of rescue... only to require that they be rescued from them, in turn!
"Another Sunday ends," Esmerelda sighs. This throwaway line is actually very telling. Esmerelda is no longer banking on "Sunday,"... on promises of faith and salvation, especially not by those who profess religious power.
No... "tomorrow is another hardworking Monday." She is trying to depend on herself, on her own work. But this seems another blind alley filled with false promises; "I am still hoping for the raise they promised me." Perhaps, someday, she will have the fortitude to remind her employers of their promise. For now, she is neither dependent on men--husbands or her son-- nor on the Church.
"There's a job as a operator/ If I could speak the language easily." In the era before cell phones, operators were telephone company employees who helped connect calls, provide 411 information, etc.; today, their job would be called "customer service." Naturally, fluency was a requirement. Esmerelda is unaware that classes in English for non-native speakers have been offered in places like libraries and community centers for decades, and she seems still too reticent to even ask after such things.
After all of her struggles, she seems ready to take a break, though: "I view my light with resignation." Further, she is still a several-times-over minority-- a woman, an immigrant, older than most job seekers, a not-quite fluent-enough-speaker. Oh, and the mother of a well-known convicted murderer, which could also hurt her career prospects.
She also seems content to consider "the Barrio" as "our own little nation," a Puerto Rican island, as it were, within the island of Manhattan. Perhaps being close to her people is as close as she can get to being with her family, which dwindles ever smaller. Wistfully, she tells Sal, "Sometimes I hear you run upstairs."
Even with all of her betrayals by the organized Church, Esmerelda still clings to her faith, and tells Sal to, also: "Keep your Bible near you."
Why? Because "time is an ocean of endless tears." Every time she put herself forward-- to the church back in Puerto Rico, to both her husbands, to this new land, and now to her job-- she has been slapped backward.
And now, she sits in her apartment, and Sal in his cell.. each a prisoner wavering between resignation to darkness and hope of sunlight.
But the Bible tells of the rise of Joseph, the Exodus from bondage, the entrance into the Promised Land, the elevation of David.... and the Ascension of Jesus. All stories of lowly people achieving liberty, self-determination, and salvation.
Next Song: Time is an Ocean
Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts
Monday, August 13, 2012
Monday, August 15, 2011
Soft Parachutes
Simon is not the most political, protest-oriented of the Greenwich Village school/era of songwriters. He has, however-- to this point in his career-- made his feelings known on a few major events and issues: the Freedom Rides, church burnings, advertising, drugs, homelessness, aging, even (in another obscure number) Nixon and Castro.
But until now, Simon has not registered his sentiments on one of the most important issues of his day: The Viet Nam War. (Well, except for the offhand mention in "Punky's Dilemma.")
As usual, his approach is personal, not national or global. He song relates, in its one verse, the jarring experience of one draftee: "Last year, I was a senior... I had me a girlfriend/ We used to get high/ And now I am flying/ Down some Vietnam highway...God only knows why."
The speaker is shocked into submission by the suddenness and severity of the change in his life. He offers no protest, even though his life has been turned upside down for no discernible reason. All he can do is obey and hope to survive, even as he sees destruction, chaos, unreason, and death at all sides.
The music of the song is understated almost to the point of a whisper. War is supposed to be loud, but Simon's imagery is rather quiet as well: "soft parachutes" drifting hushedly down into jungles; "villages burning," but not the bombs, bullets, of flamethrowers that set them explosively ablaze; and "returning the bodies," done in passive voice (who is returning them?) and the silence of the dead themselves. He is not shown fighting, either, just driving to or from some battle zone.
The loudest thing in the song, in fact, is not part of the war at all. It's "The Fourth of July," easily the loudest of all American holidays. Even so, he does not mention fireworks. Just that this Fourth is being celebrated by parachutes in the skies instead... and the bright lights are on the ground instead of overhead. By juxtaposing the two types of pyrotechnics, the song implies the question: "What are we doing-- blowing up villages here, so we we can shoot off fireworks at home?"
This is one of the most obscure of all of Simon's tracks, and with a reason. It is in the movie, but not on the movie's original soundtrack.
In the film, Simon's character, Jonah, is a trying to make his name on the blues and rock circuit. This is interrupted by the chance to do a big-deal gig... but one with a price to his rep. The gig is a folk-nostalgia concert, with the actual Lovin' Spoonful sharing the bill for context. Jonah has been trying to break away from his flower-child aura and forge a harder-edged one... so artistically, this is a backward step. But it's too much exposure (and cash) to turn down. So he swallows his pride and gives the crowd what it wants-- a thoughtful folk song.
At this point his his own career, Simon was ten years past his breakup with Garfunkel. It must have been a challenge for him to, in the middle writing the rock songs for "One-Trick Pony," suddenly have to switch back to his "He Was My Brother" mode (although this is actually closer in tone to "Old Friends"). The song does not fit with the others in the Jonah Levin Band's repertoire, so it was left off the soundtrack, to give it a more cohesive feel as a stand-alone album.
But it available on the CD reissue, and you can see the song's entire performance from the film on YouTube. It's worth watching, since I do not believe there is any footage of Simon's solo "Songbook" recording sessions.
Next song: Spiral Highway
But until now, Simon has not registered his sentiments on one of the most important issues of his day: The Viet Nam War. (Well, except for the offhand mention in "Punky's Dilemma.")
As usual, his approach is personal, not national or global. He song relates, in its one verse, the jarring experience of one draftee: "Last year, I was a senior... I had me a girlfriend/ We used to get high/ And now I am flying/ Down some Vietnam highway...God only knows why."
The speaker is shocked into submission by the suddenness and severity of the change in his life. He offers no protest, even though his life has been turned upside down for no discernible reason. All he can do is obey and hope to survive, even as he sees destruction, chaos, unreason, and death at all sides.
The music of the song is understated almost to the point of a whisper. War is supposed to be loud, but Simon's imagery is rather quiet as well: "soft parachutes" drifting hushedly down into jungles; "villages burning," but not the bombs, bullets, of flamethrowers that set them explosively ablaze; and "returning the bodies," done in passive voice (who is returning them?) and the silence of the dead themselves. He is not shown fighting, either, just driving to or from some battle zone.
The loudest thing in the song, in fact, is not part of the war at all. It's "The Fourth of July," easily the loudest of all American holidays. Even so, he does not mention fireworks. Just that this Fourth is being celebrated by parachutes in the skies instead... and the bright lights are on the ground instead of overhead. By juxtaposing the two types of pyrotechnics, the song implies the question: "What are we doing-- blowing up villages here, so we we can shoot off fireworks at home?"
This is one of the most obscure of all of Simon's tracks, and with a reason. It is in the movie, but not on the movie's original soundtrack.
In the film, Simon's character, Jonah, is a trying to make his name on the blues and rock circuit. This is interrupted by the chance to do a big-deal gig... but one with a price to his rep. The gig is a folk-nostalgia concert, with the actual Lovin' Spoonful sharing the bill for context. Jonah has been trying to break away from his flower-child aura and forge a harder-edged one... so artistically, this is a backward step. But it's too much exposure (and cash) to turn down. So he swallows his pride and gives the crowd what it wants-- a thoughtful folk song.
At this point his his own career, Simon was ten years past his breakup with Garfunkel. It must have been a challenge for him to, in the middle writing the rock songs for "One-Trick Pony," suddenly have to switch back to his "He Was My Brother" mode (although this is actually closer in tone to "Old Friends"). The song does not fit with the others in the Jonah Levin Band's repertoire, so it was left off the soundtrack, to give it a more cohesive feel as a stand-alone album.
But it available on the CD reissue, and you can see the song's entire performance from the film on YouTube. It's worth watching, since I do not believe there is any footage of Simon's solo "Songbook" recording sessions.
Next song: Spiral Highway
Monday, April 4, 2011
Still Crazy After All These Years
For all of his insistence that he is "crazy," the speaker of the lyric seems less unhinged than simply sad.
The song begins with an incident of his running into his "old lover." While she seems happier than he is for the coincidence, he agrees to join her for a drink and some reminiscence. It seems that the "crazy," here, follows the plural of "we" and "ourselves"-- they are both still crazy.
The next verse is not narrative, but confessional. He admits to to being solitary, unsentimental, and somewhat a stick-in-the-mud. Perhaps not someone you'd invite to a dinner party, but still not "crazy," although now he limits that adjective to himself.
So why, in the bridge, is he awake at 4 a.m.? Especially if he is exhausted ("crapped out," on some TV appearances, has been softened to "tapped out").
He seems trapped between two truths. One is that he wishes for things he does not have; he is "longing [his] life away."
On the other hand, is working to get those things worth the trouble, if "it's all gonna fade," and he's just going to die anyway?
He still can't sleep; perhaps it is the same night he met his old flame, but after he said good night to her at the bar. Perhaps meeting her is, for some reason, keeping him up. He doesn't seem to be missing her; we saw in the first verse that he was over her. Perhaps he wishes that he weren't-- that he cared about something in his life.
(The sax solo here is by Michael Brecker, a phenomenal jazz talent who passed away in 2007. His other work, especially with the haunting Electronic Wind Instrument, is definitely worth finding on YouTube.)
In any case, he is "watch[ing] the cars" by his window. He muses that if he ever did anything violent-- which is hardly likely, as that would require either physical motivation or emotional passion, and he seems to affect neither-- he would not be held responsible for his actions, but found not guilty due to his insanity.
In reality, as upset as he is, all he can do is watch traffic. He hardly seems like the type about which the neighbors say to news crews: "Oh, he was so quiet and he kept to himself."
Rather, he seems lethargic, moody, and just generally miserable. Not even clinically depressed, as that level of any emotion would be too extreme and taxing.
It is interesting to contrast this song with "I Am a Rock," also about a miserable loner, but one who is more adamant about insisting (unconvincingly) that he is not upset, but also that he is never going to allow that possibility because he will avoid relationships altogether, so there.
Our man here is upset, admits it, but just shrugs, "Oh well, so what, who cares."
Maybe in a world in which everyone ambitiously pursues happiness, allowing oneself to be noncommittal, solitary, and pessimistic is "crazy" by default.
People seem to react to this song as if they approve of the sentiment that one can still be as spontaneous and wild in middle age as in one's teen and college years. Upon reading the lyrics, that reaction proves unwarranted-- that sentiment is not really to be found.
For instance, many, upon re-meeting an enthusiastic old lover, would try to capitalize on the the opportunity of that enthusiasm, either for brief physical or longer emotional re-connection. Not our man, who has been down that road before and sees no reason to want to revisit its destination.
Neither is the song a longing look backward, as are Springsteen's "Glory Days" or Mellencamp's "Small Town." Our speaker seems to feel that while things aren't great now, they never were, either (see "My Little Town")-- and there is no real reason to expect they ever will be.
So he will continue to "long" and leave it at that, content with his overcast sadness and unwilling to risk his comfortable malaise for true happiness-- which would also mean the possibility of true misery. Maybe what's "crazy" is that he accepts that in his character, too, and doesn't care to change that-- and even takes some pride in his resistance to change.
IMPACT: This was a major hit for Simon. Simon won a Grammy for his vocals on the track, and the whole shebang won Album of the Year.
The album went to #1 in the States, #6 in the UK, and even cracked the Top Ten in Norway and Sweden. In a famous bit on a Saturday Night Live Thanksgiving show, Simon performed the song wearing a turkey costume.
The song and its title have become an idiom, part of common parlance; I saw an ad for a furniture store once that said it was "Still Sale Crazy After All These Years." That the song still elicited such recognition decades after its release is at least as much a compliment as a Grammy.
The song was sampled on a track called "Ninna Nanna" by an Italian band called Colle Der Fomento, and was covered by Karen Carpenter and Willie Nelson, among others.
Next Song: I Do It For Your Love
The song begins with an incident of his running into his "old lover." While she seems happier than he is for the coincidence, he agrees to join her for a drink and some reminiscence. It seems that the "crazy," here, follows the plural of "we" and "ourselves"-- they are both still crazy.
The next verse is not narrative, but confessional. He admits to to being solitary, unsentimental, and somewhat a stick-in-the-mud. Perhaps not someone you'd invite to a dinner party, but still not "crazy," although now he limits that adjective to himself.
So why, in the bridge, is he awake at 4 a.m.? Especially if he is exhausted ("crapped out," on some TV appearances, has been softened to "tapped out").
He seems trapped between two truths. One is that he wishes for things he does not have; he is "longing [his] life away."
On the other hand, is working to get those things worth the trouble, if "it's all gonna fade," and he's just going to die anyway?
He still can't sleep; perhaps it is the same night he met his old flame, but after he said good night to her at the bar. Perhaps meeting her is, for some reason, keeping him up. He doesn't seem to be missing her; we saw in the first verse that he was over her. Perhaps he wishes that he weren't-- that he cared about something in his life.
(The sax solo here is by Michael Brecker, a phenomenal jazz talent who passed away in 2007. His other work, especially with the haunting Electronic Wind Instrument, is definitely worth finding on YouTube.)
In any case, he is "watch[ing] the cars" by his window. He muses that if he ever did anything violent-- which is hardly likely, as that would require either physical motivation or emotional passion, and he seems to affect neither-- he would not be held responsible for his actions, but found not guilty due to his insanity.
In reality, as upset as he is, all he can do is watch traffic. He hardly seems like the type about which the neighbors say to news crews: "Oh, he was so quiet and he kept to himself."
Rather, he seems lethargic, moody, and just generally miserable. Not even clinically depressed, as that level of any emotion would be too extreme and taxing.
It is interesting to contrast this song with "I Am a Rock," also about a miserable loner, but one who is more adamant about insisting (unconvincingly) that he is not upset, but also that he is never going to allow that possibility because he will avoid relationships altogether, so there.
Our man here is upset, admits it, but just shrugs, "Oh well, so what, who cares."
Maybe in a world in which everyone ambitiously pursues happiness, allowing oneself to be noncommittal, solitary, and pessimistic is "crazy" by default.
People seem to react to this song as if they approve of the sentiment that one can still be as spontaneous and wild in middle age as in one's teen and college years. Upon reading the lyrics, that reaction proves unwarranted-- that sentiment is not really to be found.
For instance, many, upon re-meeting an enthusiastic old lover, would try to capitalize on the the opportunity of that enthusiasm, either for brief physical or longer emotional re-connection. Not our man, who has been down that road before and sees no reason to want to revisit its destination.
Neither is the song a longing look backward, as are Springsteen's "Glory Days" or Mellencamp's "Small Town." Our speaker seems to feel that while things aren't great now, they never were, either (see "My Little Town")-- and there is no real reason to expect they ever will be.
So he will continue to "long" and leave it at that, content with his overcast sadness and unwilling to risk his comfortable malaise for true happiness-- which would also mean the possibility of true misery. Maybe what's "crazy" is that he accepts that in his character, too, and doesn't care to change that-- and even takes some pride in his resistance to change.
IMPACT: This was a major hit for Simon. Simon won a Grammy for his vocals on the track, and the whole shebang won Album of the Year.
The album went to #1 in the States, #6 in the UK, and even cracked the Top Ten in Norway and Sweden. In a famous bit on a Saturday Night Live Thanksgiving show, Simon performed the song wearing a turkey costume.
The song and its title have become an idiom, part of common parlance; I saw an ad for a furniture store once that said it was "Still Sale Crazy After All These Years." That the song still elicited such recognition decades after its release is at least as much a compliment as a Grammy.
The song was sampled on a track called "Ninna Nanna" by an Italian band called Colle Der Fomento, and was covered by Karen Carpenter and Willie Nelson, among others.
Next Song: I Do It For Your Love
Monday, January 24, 2011
Kodachrome
This is a sardonic song about the dual nature of nostalgia.
We tend, as a species, to look at at the days of our youth through rose-colored glasses. We speak lovingly of "back in the day" as "the good ol' days," singing: "Those were the days." As other songwriters said, "It's the laughter we will remember/ whenever we remember/ the way we were."
Other songwriters... not Mr. Simon.
When our speaker remembers "high school," he remembers it as an empty experience. What he did learn was "crap," and the method of thinking that was encouraged was so poor that today, "It's a wonder [he] can think at all."
The lousy grammar of the next two lines proves his point. He says, "didn't hurt me none," which is not only a double negative but has an extra word. What he should have said was "My lack of education didn't hurt me." But adding the extra/wrong word to a sentence about how he was not hurt by his lack of education, Simon cracks a joke; obviously, he was hurt in that regard. It would be akin to saying: "I'm not as dumb as you think I are."
The next line is even more convoluted, its content being: Even though he wasn't hurt by his lack of education, he still can read. Come again? Of course, if his lack of education didn't hurt him, he can read. If his lack of education had hurt him, then he couldn't read. Well, like he said, "It's a wonder [he] can think at all."
And what can he read? "The writing on the wall." This could be a reference to "Sound of Silence," with its line: "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls." Or to "Underground Wall," where we learned what that word of "four letters" was likely to be. However, I think we should just take the line at face value for its common, cliched meaning: "Even though I was poorly educated, I can tell what's going to happen." (The original "writing on the wall" was done in the biblical Book of Daniel.)
In the next verse, we see another snub of nostalgia. First, think of a song like the Willie Nelson/ Julio Iglesias duet "To All the Girls I've Loved Before." Now read our lyrics here.
All the girls this guy has loved before can "never match [his] sweet imagination." If he really got to see them again, now, he knows he would remember not the great times they shared... but the reasons they broke up.
So what is better than memory? Photographs. With their "nice, bright colors" they "make you think all the world's a sunny day."
He knows that he is so realistic that if he relied only on his memories, he'd only have bad ones.
So there are two possible reasons why he "love[s] to take a photograph." One may be that the photographs help him remember that good things have also happened to him, and that his life was not all years wasted in high school and disappointing relationships.
The other is that, in the words of a current pop hit, he "loves the way [they] lie." He knows that the photos are only the best images of the best times, that they are selectively happy. No one takes a camera to school or work-- they take one to amusement parks and parties. But he wants-- and needs-- that lie.
He asks us not to "take [his] Kodachrome away" because without their comforting lies, the way they make all the world "bright" and "sunny," life is disappointing, dull, and gray. And "everything looks worse in black and white." (Interestingly, the concert version of the lyrics says they look "better" this way.)
There is a lot of literature about the necessity of a comforting lie, perhaps none as pointed as Ibsen's play The Wild Duck. In order to appease an elderly relative who, in his dementia, thinks he is on a perpetual duck hunt, the family hides a wooden decoy in their apartment every day so that he can find it. This is the obvious lie.
The man of the house, meanwhile, is working on some sort of invention that will never work. While this seems more respectable than looking for a toy duck every day, it is ultimately as futile a pursuit. Again, the family humors one of its members, as it makes him happy.
And then the man's friends secretly debate as to whether to reveal to the man that his doting daughter in not, in fact, his biological child. One friend says the truth has the highest value; the other says no-- his relationship with his daughter is. The truth would destroy his marriage as well.
When our speaker "think[s] back on high school, he knows it was "crap." When he thinks back on his past girlfriends, he knows now he could have done better.
But he "love[s] to take a photograph," so please, don't take his film away. He has to take pictures of what's going on now, so he can (mis)remember it later.
(It would be interesting to do a side-by-side comparison of this song to the short "Bookends Theme," also about the relationship between "photograph[s]" and "memories.")
NOTE:
Kodak has bowed to the digital-photography revolution and, in spring of 2009, announced it would no longer manufacture the Kodachrome line of film. The film stock itself is now... nostalgia.
IMPACT:
The song was a significant hit, going to #2 in the US and #1 in Canada.
But it was not released as a radio single in the UK due to the British broadcasters' unwillingness to air any song with a brand name in it.
It was covered by soul singer Percy Faith, best known for "When a Man Loves a Woman." And also by Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem... from The Muppet Show.
Next Song: Tenderness
We tend, as a species, to look at at the days of our youth through rose-colored glasses. We speak lovingly of "back in the day" as "the good ol' days," singing: "Those were the days." As other songwriters said, "It's the laughter we will remember/ whenever we remember/ the way we were."
Other songwriters... not Mr. Simon.
When our speaker remembers "high school," he remembers it as an empty experience. What he did learn was "crap," and the method of thinking that was encouraged was so poor that today, "It's a wonder [he] can think at all."
The lousy grammar of the next two lines proves his point. He says, "didn't hurt me none," which is not only a double negative but has an extra word. What he should have said was "My lack of education didn't hurt me." But adding the extra/wrong word to a sentence about how he was not hurt by his lack of education, Simon cracks a joke; obviously, he was hurt in that regard. It would be akin to saying: "I'm not as dumb as you think I are."
The next line is even more convoluted, its content being: Even though he wasn't hurt by his lack of education, he still can read. Come again? Of course, if his lack of education didn't hurt him, he can read. If his lack of education had hurt him, then he couldn't read. Well, like he said, "It's a wonder [he] can think at all."
And what can he read? "The writing on the wall." This could be a reference to "Sound of Silence," with its line: "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls." Or to "Underground Wall," where we learned what that word of "four letters" was likely to be. However, I think we should just take the line at face value for its common, cliched meaning: "Even though I was poorly educated, I can tell what's going to happen." (The original "writing on the wall" was done in the biblical Book of Daniel.)
In the next verse, we see another snub of nostalgia. First, think of a song like the Willie Nelson/ Julio Iglesias duet "To All the Girls I've Loved Before." Now read our lyrics here.
All the girls this guy has loved before can "never match [his] sweet imagination." If he really got to see them again, now, he knows he would remember not the great times they shared... but the reasons they broke up.
So what is better than memory? Photographs. With their "nice, bright colors" they "make you think all the world's a sunny day."
He knows that he is so realistic that if he relied only on his memories, he'd only have bad ones.
So there are two possible reasons why he "love[s] to take a photograph." One may be that the photographs help him remember that good things have also happened to him, and that his life was not all years wasted in high school and disappointing relationships.
The other is that, in the words of a current pop hit, he "loves the way [they] lie." He knows that the photos are only the best images of the best times, that they are selectively happy. No one takes a camera to school or work-- they take one to amusement parks and parties. But he wants-- and needs-- that lie.
He asks us not to "take [his] Kodachrome away" because without their comforting lies, the way they make all the world "bright" and "sunny," life is disappointing, dull, and gray. And "everything looks worse in black and white." (Interestingly, the concert version of the lyrics says they look "better" this way.)
There is a lot of literature about the necessity of a comforting lie, perhaps none as pointed as Ibsen's play The Wild Duck. In order to appease an elderly relative who, in his dementia, thinks he is on a perpetual duck hunt, the family hides a wooden decoy in their apartment every day so that he can find it. This is the obvious lie.
The man of the house, meanwhile, is working on some sort of invention that will never work. While this seems more respectable than looking for a toy duck every day, it is ultimately as futile a pursuit. Again, the family humors one of its members, as it makes him happy.
And then the man's friends secretly debate as to whether to reveal to the man that his doting daughter in not, in fact, his biological child. One friend says the truth has the highest value; the other says no-- his relationship with his daughter is. The truth would destroy his marriage as well.
When our speaker "think[s] back on high school, he knows it was "crap." When he thinks back on his past girlfriends, he knows now he could have done better.
But he "love[s] to take a photograph," so please, don't take his film away. He has to take pictures of what's going on now, so he can (mis)remember it later.
(It would be interesting to do a side-by-side comparison of this song to the short "Bookends Theme," also about the relationship between "photograph[s]" and "memories.")
NOTE:
Kodak has bowed to the digital-photography revolution and, in spring of 2009, announced it would no longer manufacture the Kodachrome line of film. The film stock itself is now... nostalgia.
IMPACT:
The song was a significant hit, going to #2 in the US and #1 in Canada.
But it was not released as a radio single in the UK due to the British broadcasters' unwillingness to air any song with a brand name in it.
It was covered by soul singer Percy Faith, best known for "When a Man Loves a Woman." And also by Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem... from The Muppet Show.
Next Song: Tenderness
Monday, June 14, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
A Simple Desultory Philippic
Decades before Billy Joel gave us a musical rundown of the latter half of the 20th Century with "We Didn't Start the Fire," Simon offered this reference-filled view of the mid-1960s he was then in (the album was released in 1966). In it, Simon name-checks many of the major players in the day's culture, with a focus on music.
The past is often seen through rose-colored glasses. Many yearn for the 1950s, for instance, believing it was a cross between a Norman Rockwell painting and "Leave it the Beaver." Well, maybe... if you weren't a woman, gay, black, Irish, Jewish, Asian, or anything but a middle-class, middle-age Midwesterner who was white and male. The same could be said of the nostalgia for Victorian life, as discussed in Suzanne Vega's song "Last Year's Troubles."
Here, Simon discusses what life in like in a culture in which everyone is trying to outdo each other to be more "out-there." From the standpoint of the 21st Century, it may look freewheeling. From inside that vortex, however, Simon reports that it was simply dizzying: "I been Rolling Stoned and Beatled 'til I'm blind," he says, using stressed syllables to hint at the violent words in those names-- "stoned" and "beat."
The song is also a friendly dig at Dylan, Simon's main competitor. Simon imitates his musical style (mixing electric and acoustic guitars backed by an organ), his declarative vocals, and his "Subterranean Homesick Blues" style of free-associative songwriting.
Now, to explain the references themselves:
"Desultory" means non -linear, marked by non-sequiturs and a lack of a plan; a "Philippic" is a public denunciation or condemnation.
(For word lovers, or horse lovers, this is an interesting couple of words. The first comes from the circus acrobat who jumps from horse to horse. The second comes from a series of speeches made by Demosthenes against Philip of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great; the name "Philip" means "lover of horses.")
Norman Mailer was a writer who pioneered the idea of presenting facts in a narrative way known as "New Journalism."
Maxwell Taylor was a high-ranking but controversial US general, blamed by some for hiding the Joint Chiefs' views on Vietnam from JFK.
John O'Hara was an author who wrote novels about the class struggle, like "BUtterfield 8" (made into an Elizabeth Taylor film).
Robert McNamara was the Secretary of Defense during the Vietnam War. He is a highly controversial figure. The documentary Fog of War, about him, won an Oscar.
The Rolling Stones and Beatles were probably the most successful bands to come out of the "British Invasion," which came from England but was largely inspired by American blues.
Ayn Rand wrote Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead, which prefigured the "greed is good" idea with the concept of "enlightened self-interest." Her selfish philosophy, called "objectivism," is still popular.
Communist/left handed: Left-handedness has always been suspect; in fact, it is the source of the word "sinister." In the French Parliament, liberals sat on the left, and that is why the terms "leftist," "the left," and "left wing" mean "liberal." So it is no coincidence that liberals are easily mocked for associating themselves with the left hand... by the "right-minded" people on the "right wing."
Phil Spector was a music producer and recording engineer responsible for the "Wall of Sound" idea of making music that surrounded the listener and enveloped him. This is best exemplified by the Righteous Brothers songs "Heart and Inspiration" and "Unchained Melody." Always prone to violent outbursts, he was found guilty of murder in 2008.
Lou Adler is a producer and manager of many famous acts, including Jan & Dean, The Mamas & the Papas, The Weavers, Sam Cooke, The Temptations. He won two Grammys for producing Carole King albums, including her immortal Tapestry.
Barry Sadler was a marine who went into singing, recording the hit "Ballad of the Green Berets."
Lenny Bruce was the most important stand-up comic in the history of the genre, insisting on blunt honesty. He ran afoul of the law repeatedly for using "curse words" in public, and became a hero of Free Speech. He was posthumously pardoned by New York State (the first time that's happened) in 2003.
"Smoke a pint of tea": Let's assume this is a marijuana reference.
(Bob) Dylan was (and is) a towering figure in American music and culture, and may be the single most influential songwriter in world history. In 2009, documentary-maker Michael Moore quoted a verse of "The Times, They are A'Changin'" on Larry King's talk show, and Larry asked him if he (Moore) had written that song himself. Moore joked that it was, after all, an "obscure" song.
Dylan Thomas was a great Welsh poet, most known for his poem about fighting against death, "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night," which contains the line "Rage! Rage against the dying of a light!"
"It's alright, Ma" and "Everybody must get stoned" are lines from the Dylan songs "It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) and "Rainy Day Women No. 12 & 35"
Mick Jagger is the lead singer of The Rolling Stones. He once said "I'd rather be dead than singing "Satisfaction" when I'm 45." He is now 67 and not dead. At last report, however, he is still singing that song.
"Silver Dagger" is an old folk ballad covered by both Bob Dylan and folksinger Joan Baez.
Andy Warhol is famous for elevating commercial art to the status of high art. His own paintings were mostly very accurate line-drawings of celebrities and common objects, which were then covered in wild fields of color "outside the lines."
Roy Hallee is a highly regarded producer and engineer, who worked with S&G, but also
The Byrds, Laura Nyro, and Blood, Sweat & Tears.
Art Garfunkel actually had more of a role in S&G than most realize, especially in shaping their sound.
And, Albert, whom Simon tells he dropped his harmonica as the song fades? I have no idea. (An astute reader assured me it is producer Albert Grossman.)
Next song: For Emily, Wherever I may Find Her
The past is often seen through rose-colored glasses. Many yearn for the 1950s, for instance, believing it was a cross between a Norman Rockwell painting and "Leave it the Beaver." Well, maybe... if you weren't a woman, gay, black, Irish, Jewish, Asian, or anything but a middle-class, middle-age Midwesterner who was white and male. The same could be said of the nostalgia for Victorian life, as discussed in Suzanne Vega's song "Last Year's Troubles."
Here, Simon discusses what life in like in a culture in which everyone is trying to outdo each other to be more "out-there." From the standpoint of the 21st Century, it may look freewheeling. From inside that vortex, however, Simon reports that it was simply dizzying: "I been Rolling Stoned and Beatled 'til I'm blind," he says, using stressed syllables to hint at the violent words in those names-- "stoned" and "beat."
The song is also a friendly dig at Dylan, Simon's main competitor. Simon imitates his musical style (mixing electric and acoustic guitars backed by an organ), his declarative vocals, and his "Subterranean Homesick Blues" style of free-associative songwriting.
Now, to explain the references themselves:
"Desultory" means non -linear, marked by non-sequiturs and a lack of a plan; a "Philippic" is a public denunciation or condemnation.
(For word lovers, or horse lovers, this is an interesting couple of words. The first comes from the circus acrobat who jumps from horse to horse. The second comes from a series of speeches made by Demosthenes against Philip of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great; the name "Philip" means "lover of horses.")
Norman Mailer was a writer who pioneered the idea of presenting facts in a narrative way known as "New Journalism."
Maxwell Taylor was a high-ranking but controversial US general, blamed by some for hiding the Joint Chiefs' views on Vietnam from JFK.
John O'Hara was an author who wrote novels about the class struggle, like "BUtterfield 8" (made into an Elizabeth Taylor film).
Robert McNamara was the Secretary of Defense during the Vietnam War. He is a highly controversial figure. The documentary Fog of War, about him, won an Oscar.
The Rolling Stones and Beatles were probably the most successful bands to come out of the "British Invasion," which came from England but was largely inspired by American blues.
Ayn Rand wrote Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead, which prefigured the "greed is good" idea with the concept of "enlightened self-interest." Her selfish philosophy, called "objectivism," is still popular.
Communist/left handed: Left-handedness has always been suspect; in fact, it is the source of the word "sinister." In the French Parliament, liberals sat on the left, and that is why the terms "leftist," "the left," and "left wing" mean "liberal." So it is no coincidence that liberals are easily mocked for associating themselves with the left hand... by the "right-minded" people on the "right wing."
Phil Spector was a music producer and recording engineer responsible for the "Wall of Sound" idea of making music that surrounded the listener and enveloped him. This is best exemplified by the Righteous Brothers songs "Heart and Inspiration" and "Unchained Melody." Always prone to violent outbursts, he was found guilty of murder in 2008.
Lou Adler is a producer and manager of many famous acts, including Jan & Dean, The Mamas & the Papas, The Weavers, Sam Cooke, The Temptations. He won two Grammys for producing Carole King albums, including her immortal Tapestry.
Barry Sadler was a marine who went into singing, recording the hit "Ballad of the Green Berets."
Lenny Bruce was the most important stand-up comic in the history of the genre, insisting on blunt honesty. He ran afoul of the law repeatedly for using "curse words" in public, and became a hero of Free Speech. He was posthumously pardoned by New York State (the first time that's happened) in 2003.
"Smoke a pint of tea": Let's assume this is a marijuana reference.
(Bob) Dylan was (and is) a towering figure in American music and culture, and may be the single most influential songwriter in world history. In 2009, documentary-maker Michael Moore quoted a verse of "The Times, They are A'Changin'" on Larry King's talk show, and Larry asked him if he (Moore) had written that song himself. Moore joked that it was, after all, an "obscure" song.
Dylan Thomas was a great Welsh poet, most known for his poem about fighting against death, "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night," which contains the line "Rage! Rage against the dying of a light!"
"It's alright, Ma" and "Everybody must get stoned" are lines from the Dylan songs "It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) and "Rainy Day Women No. 12 & 35"
Mick Jagger is the lead singer of The Rolling Stones. He once said "I'd rather be dead than singing "Satisfaction" when I'm 45." He is now 67 and not dead. At last report, however, he is still singing that song.
"Silver Dagger" is an old folk ballad covered by both Bob Dylan and folksinger Joan Baez.
Andy Warhol is famous for elevating commercial art to the status of high art. His own paintings were mostly very accurate line-drawings of celebrities and common objects, which were then covered in wild fields of color "outside the lines."
Roy Hallee is a highly regarded producer and engineer, who worked with S&G, but also
The Byrds, Laura Nyro, and Blood, Sweat & Tears.
Art Garfunkel actually had more of a role in S&G than most realize, especially in shaping their sound.
And, Albert, whom Simon tells he dropped his harmonica as the song fades? I have no idea. (An astute reader assured me it is producer Albert Grossman.)
Next song: For Emily, Wherever I may Find Her
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