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.)




  

Pigs, Sheep and Wolves

The animal fable is at least as old as Aesop. And Simon himself used animals as human stand-ins in the song "At the Zoo."

But the most famous modern example is probably Orwell's Animal Farm. Here, Simon uses a similar set of creatures to represent various aspects of humanity.

First, we meet a pig. He's a "barnyard thug" who usually gets his way: "...nobody's gonna argue with him/ He's a half a ton of pig meat."

(This verse notes that the pig sleeps on straw but calls it a "rug," This line or two always seemed forced to me, existing only to rhyme with "thug." Simon must have agreed, because the entire concept is ditched in the In the Blue Light version and is now just "makes his bed in a puddle of mud." This, in turn, is somewhat pedantic and unnecessary-- we all know pigs sleep in mud-- but at least it isn't forced and distracting.)

Next, the wolves. While wild, they pose no threat to anyone in the farmyard: "Never did no harm/ Sleep all day/ Hunt till four/ Maybe catch a couple of rodents /You know, carnivore."

Last are the sheep, passive and pacific. And then, one day, like the sheep that wandered away from Moses' biblical flock: "One of the sheep wanders.../ Separated from the flock/ Where'd he go?"

Sure enough, he gets picked off. A crime scene is declared. Is there any evidence that might point to a potential suspect? "Got a gash as big as a wolf's head." Well, there you go. Case closed.

Except... what's the pig doing? "Wallowing in lanolin/ He's rubbing it into his pigskin." Lanolin is "wool grease, especially when refined for use in ointments and cosmetics." (m-w.com) Yes, lanolin comes from sheep.

But no one is looking for the pig! "Police going crazy/ Say, let’s get him/ Let's get that wolf." Of course, the wolf has his day in court, but sadly the "court-appointed lawyer wasn't very bright/ Maybe it was just a late night/ And he files some feeble appeal."

The wolf has one chance left-- the governor can stay his execution. But would why he, and be tagged as soft on crime... in an election year at that? "The governor says, “Forget it/ It's a done deal/ It’s election, I don't care, election!/ Let's give that wolf a lethal injection." (The In the Blue Light version is cleverer. Instead of repeating the word "election," the line is now "Objection? I don't care-- election!")

"Here comes the media"-- well, likely they have been there all along-- "Asking everyone's opinion/ About pigs, sheep and wolves." At least they suspect that the pig was involved. But it seems that they are shouted down.

From his wallow, the pig laughs. “This is hilarious/ What a great time/ I'm the pig who committed/ The perfect crime.”

But there is hope. "All around the world/ France and Scandinavia/ Candlelight vigils/ Protesting this behavior./ It’s animal behavior/ It’s pigs, sheep and wolves." (Let's pause to give Simon a nod for his "Scandinavia/behavior" rhyme! In the In the Blue Light version, France becomes "Japan," making the popular reaction less Euro-centric and better paying off the "all around the world" notion.)

The allegory works in many directions. The pigs seem to be the ones in power, whether governmental, financial, military, religious, or some combination thereof. The wolves aren't even in the barnyard-- they are the outcasts of society, minorities, useful as (to mix our metaphors) scapegoats... because we all know about those people and what they are like. And the sheep are the good citizens who try to go about their business and stay out of trouble... who get screwed over no matter what they do. 

Yes, sometimes the "wolves" do commit crimes. But a mugger can only rob one person at a time, and then only of whatever cash they have on hand. An embezzler can steal millions, from millions, and no one notices for decades. Yet, anyone who dares suggest that a business be a responsible citizen-- and not lie, cheat, steal, pollute, or impoverish people--  is declared "anti-business" and even "anti-American." 

A great book that is not a fable despite its title, Cows, Pigs, Wars and Witches by Marvin Harris (which predates Freakonomics by 20 years), argues that-- to use Simon's metaphor-- pigs stay in power, remaining "big and fat," by keeping sheep afraid of wolves. I doubt Simon has read Harris' book, but I imagine he would agree.

Next Song: Hurricane Eye

Virgil and the Warden

In his classic comic lament, "I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive," Hank Williams sings: "Everyone's ag'in' me and it's got me down." Well, almost everyone is against Salvador, too, but instead, it gets him fired up.

At the moment, his opposition is a guard named Virgil. We met him in his eponymous song a couple of tracks back. 

Here, he continues his persecution of Salvador. The song opens with him chastising Salvador for playing his music too loudly, only he adds the insult "spic music"; later, he throws words like "si" and "senior" at Salvador like slurs. 

Salvador retorts that he is using headphones, and furthermore, "Why don't you just go to Hell?" Salvador further threatens to issue another formal complaint to the warden about Virgil.

Virgil responds, basically, "Oh, you're gonna write me up? Yeah, you're a big-shot writer now." He taunts Salvador about his fame as an author and his "liberal lawyers." He calls Salvador a "hernia" and tells Salvador that his report to the warden will fall on deaf ears. 

Virgil's hatred of Salvador is based on several factors. Virgil feels that he himself should have more opportunity and success. After all, he is a working man and a family man, while Salvador is a murderer! Oh, and also a immigrant and a non-native speaker. Further, because they are in the South, Virgil is seen by many outside the South as a "rube," which he feels in an additional unfair slight; in fact, as a white American, he should be ahead of Salvador in the race for success as a matter of course. How awful it must feel to be rigging the game and still losing!

It is very even-handed of Simon to show the reaction by many to Salvador's success. After all, Salvador became famous originally for being a cold-blooded killer... and now he's back on TV, but not on the news. He's on the talk shows, shilling his book. That a convicted murderer of any background should be celebrated so is upsetting to many. Add to this the unfairness felt by the people who went to work to pay taxes for Salvador's incarceration-- and now he's getting out, going to college, writing books, becoming respectable... just who does he think he is?

On top of this is the general hatred many, sadly, feel toward those of a different background, race, language, or national origin, and you can see how a resentment of Salvador's literary pretensions was nearly inevitable. It is a shame that those who protested the musical did not see it, for in this song Simon upholds many of their doubts about the worthiness of such a man as the focus of, for instance, a Broadway musical.

Now Salvador and Virgil have their meeting with the Warden. Before they enter his office, he says to the audience that he is paranoid about someone doing violence to him while he sleeps, and says that if anything does happen to him, he will be sure Salvador is blamed regardless: "Shadows cross my bed/ My blood is on your head.""

Then to Salvador, he says that he has read his writing, and feels that it is revisionist: "You treat your crime as fiction/ When the opposite is true." He then tells Salvador that his parole hearing is in just five months, so he'd better not screw up before then. 

Only he tells him that, it seems, in front of Virgil! Which gives Virgil permission to provoke Salvador as much as he likes, while Salvador dare not retaliate for fear of losing his chance at parole. Five months is a long time to put up with such treatment.

Or to enjoy engaging in it, as Virgil now does. As he escorts Salvador back to his cell, he tells him what he told us in his earlier song about his rifle: "I like that gun for deer... but if it came down to me/ I'd use it right here."

Salvador retorts that it will be hard to aim at a non-existing target: "If this harassment goes on... I won't wait for my parole, I'll be gone." Yes, he tells his guard he plans to escape. Perhaps not the most discreet move.

Virgil gets the last word, which is, more or less: "Good luck with that." Salvador should not feel himself too powerful, despite his fans and high-class friends. On a day-to-day basis, he will be dealing not with them but the man who has the keys to his cell. 

Racist though he is, Virgil does make one valid point: The moral high ground is hard to assert when you are in a dungeon.

Next Song: Trailways Bus/ El Malecon

El Condor Pasa

[Note to readers: I know I missed last week's post, but I have a good excuse. His name is Joe, he was born in July 15, and he is sleeping in my left arm.]

Simon has already drawn from native folk sources for his material, as he did with "Scarborough Fair." This time, he presages his Rhythm of the Saints work by decades with a Peruvian folk tune, replete with authentic wood flutes from the Andes.

The song's title means "The Condor Passes," the condor being a large vulture-like bird native to the Andes and Rockies. It soars, huge wings outspread, barely flapping, riding on air currents.

Gravity, as much as it gives to us, is considered the enemy of humanity. For as long as we have seen birds, we have tried to fly like them. Babies love being tossed in the air, children ride swings as high as they can, and we adults do everything from high diving and BASE jumping to parasailing, skydiving, and hang-gilding... all in the attempt to fly. Even our greatest superhero's most super superpower is to make people point skyward at his soaring form, crying: "It's a bird! It's a plane!"

Simon gives that yearning-- to be a bird-- a voice, here. He'd "rather be a sparrow." He'd rather "sail away, like a swan/ That's here and gone."

The song is about longing to fly like a bird, a "sparrow" (perhaps not as destitute a one as in "Sparrow") or a "swan." The lyrics are a series of comparisons, with the flying birds winning out over those creatures bound by gravity, like snails... or humans. Similarly, natural settings like "forests" win out over urban ones like a "street."

It interesting that he chose a "sparrow," since his song about that very bird showed how vulnerable and ignored it was. Perhaps this strengthens his point-- anyone could wish to be an eagle (or a condor) rather than stay a human. But they might prefer to stay human and earthbound if the other option was to be a mere sparrow. Not him. He wants to fly so much, he'll even be this fragile bird.

After all, "a man" might as well be a "snail." He's so "tied up to the ground" that he "gives the world its saddest sound."

Than comes the last line, which is a half a comparison: "I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet." Rather than what? Does this continue the thought of the previous line, so that "earth" underfoot is better than the asphalt of a "street"?

Or is it a refutation of all the soaring imagery that came before? Would the speaker rather "feel the earth beneath [his] feet" than not? Would he walk forever rather than fly?

The idea of preferring the woods to the city fits somewhat with the idea of preferring flying to walking. The benefit of flying is, aside from the convenience, freedom to wander, explore, and simply-- as the Mamas and Papas encourage-- "Go where you wanna go." Wandering in the un-peopled woods is about as close to that isolation and roadless-ness as most of us will be able to get.

The answer may come from the repeated refrain: "If I could, I surely would." But he can't. Since all of these bird scenarios are impossible, wouldn't it just be better to accept one's situation, and not continue to pine away and make "the saddest sound" over what can never be? Maybe some predictability is, ultimately, better than complete, bird-like freedom.

The condor glides overhead, inspiring awe in the earthbound viewer below. It swoops... circles... and soars. But then it passes.

The speaker next lets us know that he'd rather even be a tyrant than a victim-- a "hammer," rather than a "nail." Compare this to the imagery of hammers used to symbolize fascism in Pink Floyd's movie The Wall (even though the word "fascism," which derives from the symbol of the "fasces," should be symbolized by another tool, the ax; look up "fasces" and you'll see why.).

But a true drifter wants no attachments at all, which would include power over-- and responsibility for-- others, as much as it includes being beholden to no one. He wants to be neither hammer nor nail. He doesn't want to be a tool in anyone's toolbox! We must conclude that the line is only really there to rhyme with "snail."

So why didn't Simon go back and change the opposite of "sparrow" to something other than "snail"? Perhaps he wanted to keep the alliteration with "sparrow," but dismissed other one-syllable, small, land-bound forest animals as being even worse in their imagery or rhyme-possibilities: "snake," "squirrel," "sloth." Maybe what's here is fine. We could have had: "I'd rather be a sparrow than a skunk."

Overall, the song is a lovely and haunting rumination on the limitations of the human form. Here we are, with the best brain-- and the knowledge that we would truly appreciate flight if we could have it-- and we can't even fly up into a tree like a simple sparrow. Let alone a soaring condor.


MUSICAL NOTE:
While Simon is largely credited with bringing "world music" into the mainstream of American pop culture with Graceland, this song reminds us that musicians have long been doing so. Peter Paul and Mary, Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, and Harry Belafonte were just some of the folk musicians of the 1960s who worked non-American, non-English songs into their sets. Desi Arnaz was bringing Cuban music into suburban living rooms on the Lucy show as early as the 1950s, and Latin dances were part of Xavier Cugat's swing music even before that.

The story of this song is long, but here is a short version: The melody began as a traditional Andean folk tune in Peru. It was adapted and included in a longer, theatrical piece (called a "zarzuella") along with other such melodies by one Daniel Alomia Robles.

When Simon heard the Peruvian wood-flute ensemble Los Incas playing the melody in Paris (with the arrangement of their leader, Jorge Milchberg) he asked to write words for it; Simon toured with Los Incas, who perform the backup on the Bridge version of the track. He even produced their first US album. Milchberg's later band, Urubamba, accompanies Simon for this track on Live Rhymin'. They also provide backup on his solo song, "Duncan."

And anyone who thinks Simon was only interested in "world music" during his Graceland period need only listen to this and the next track to know that he has been exploring this music for much, much longer.

IMPACT:
The song reached #18 on the US charts. But it went to #1 all over Europe-- Spain,  Belgium, the Netherlands, West Germany, Austria,and Switzerland-- as well as Australia. It was covered by, of all people, crooner Perry Como.


Next song: Cecilia