The title means "Farewell, Brothers." And this (Track 1 on the soundtrack) is the song of goodbye, when we see, in some detail, young Sal Agron tried and convicted and led away to prison. First, he says goodbye to his "amigos" in the "House of D"... as in "detention."
It starts with the date, the name of the judge... and the observation that non-Hispanic gangs, white and black, "Well, they'd kill you if they could." So yes, his only friends are those who are truly "amigos," to whose language that word belongs, and those whose world he is leaving.
Now, Aurea, Sal's sister, says that they are not alone in their grief. First, "people are suffering all over the world." Then, specifically, "all over the island tonight"-- Manhattan, that is, but perhaps also Puerto Rico. So she recognizes that the cycle of (male) violence has not spared them any more than it has spared the other "mothers" and "sisters" who "weep" and "grieve."
Sal continues his narrative. He felt the hostility aimed at him by the onlookers, to whom he was "Just some spic/ They scrubbed off the sidewalk." And the judge is no less subject to this prejudice, saying: "The electric chair/ For the greasy pair." The media are against him as well: "Guilty in the press/ 'Let the Capeman burn for the murders.'... The newspapers and the TV crews/ Well, they'd kill you if they could."
Well, yes, but isn't he, you know, actually guilty? Didn't he and the Umbrella Man kill those people? Yes, the song implies, but white killers would be seen as just killers, not extra-guilty-- or certainly guilty-- just because of their ethnic background.
Further-- and this point Aurea and Sal state outright-- if the victims had been Hispanic, there might not be as much of an outcry, either: "A Spanish[-speaking] boy could be killed every night of the week/ But just let some white boy die/ And the world goes crazy for... Latin blood." It's not so much that an injustice has been visited on Sal, as much as unnecessary and unwarranted (and, frankly, racist) insults have been added to his sentence.
Sal concludes his story by describing the restraints he is "shackled" with, and the ride to jail in a "black maria" (slang for "police van") through Spanish Harlem. They passed by their friends hanging out "on the corners"-- perhaps to purposely see him off-- and they call out as they pass, "Adios, hermanos." Sal expresses this as "lay[ing] our prayers upon them."
This slides nicely into the next song, an actual prayer. The title means "Jesus Is My Lord." (What seems to be a draft of this song, titled "Cristo Me Todo" is available online; I will note the few lyrical differences between this and the final version.)
Sal is not here; this scene takes place in his stepfather's church, and possibly later at home. We hear the congregation praising Jesus...
...and then Aurea prays. She thanks the Lord for comforting her mother (in the draft, herself as well). And then she thanks the governor (Nelson Rockefeller), for commuting Sal's sentence from death to life imprisonment (in the draft, for hearing "the Lord's voice" to do so.) Bernadette, Sal's girlfriend, also offers a prayer. We learn that First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt also urged clemency, as did the (female) mayor of San Juan, Puerto Rico's capital.
But one man is not moved. And that man is the pastor of this church-- Sal's stepfather, Gonzales. He sees all this Earthly mercy as subverting Divine Will: "...in the court of the mighty God/ No man can ever change his sentence/ He (Sal) is a falling angel pitched to burning hell." Further, he says that Sal's crime is no fault of his own-- "I tried to teach him,"-- but that Sal chose to follow the Vampires, "the bats and the vermin of their name." He concludes that Sal has "brought everlasting shame on Puerto Rico." (Literary note: Simon and Wolcott here rhyme "sentence" with "repentence." Nicely done!)
At this, the women turn on Gonzales. Aurea excoriates him: "You heart is blacker than the suit you always wear... [You are] A hypocrite who hides behind the Bible" (and "Bible' is rhymed with "disciple.")
Then, Esmerelda does her daughter one better-- she divorces him: "How can you say such things about my son?... This marriage is done."
Aurea has two last comments: "For three long years, my mother prayed for this to come." (In the draft, it's "one" year. In any case, what "this" is unclear, most likely that Sal's life would be spared.)
She concludes: "We made America the land we call our home/ We still believe in this country" (in the draft, she believes "this is our country.") I am not sure why this is here. She has already thanked the politicians who stood up for Sal, and has not disagreed that the general public and media are generally anti-Hispanic. And it's not as if they would want to go back to Puerto Rico regardless; the economic reasons for their move still stand. Now more than before, in fact, as they will be without Gonzales' income, and they already know what life is like in Puerto Rico with no man's earning power to count on.
Lazarus repeats Bernadette's prayer, and the song ends in a cascade of "Aleluya!" (spelled "Hallelujah" in English).
Sal bids farewell to his "brothers." And, aside from Governor Rockefeller, no man comes to his aid. But he never bids farewell to his sisters. And, it is indeed mostly women who still support and defend him... and save his life.
Next Song: Sunday Afternoon
Showing posts with label media. Show all posts
Showing posts with label media. Show all posts
Monday, August 6, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
All Around the World or The Myth of Fingerprints
The thing people know about fingerprints is that each person's is unique. This truth is the basis for much crime-solving and now, with the advent of tiny scanners, security and crime prevention.
The main character in this song, however, the "former talk-show host," dismisses this idea as a "myth." As he says, "I've seen them all/ And... they're all the same."
Meaning that the idea of people being unique is a myth. The host is not bragging that he has literally seen every fingerprint of every person-- not even the FBI's experts have done that. Rather, in his line of work, he has met enough people of all walks of life-- from celebrities to those of us who will never be-- to know that people are truly more alike than they are different.
The opening line, "over the mountain, down in the valley," is likely not a throw-away line by Simon, but probably a reference to Hollywood, which lies in a valley... near the mountain the famous HOLLYWOOD sign is on.
The second verse shifts the scene dramatically to "Out in the Indian Ocean somewhere," where, on some island, lies a "former Army post." We can guess that this is a relic of the Viet Nam War, but might also date back to WWII.
In any case, the host explains that this is one of the results of the myth of individuality. If we did not separate ourselves into factions, insisting upon the reality of imagined (or over-emphasized) differences, he posits, there would be no more wars. And so no need of Army posts-- they would all become "former" ones.
The last verse returns us to the talk-show host's living room couch. This pernicious myth, he concludes, doesn't only foster international conflict. It also has more a personal impact. It causes us to "live alone." We can never be truly united and truly live together, he sighs, if we continue to declare that we are as unique as our fingerprints.
As if the jump from a "talk-show host" to an "army post" wasn't enormous enough, Simon elaborates that the "myth" is pervasive throughout time and space. For time, he talks about a day, from sun-up to a sunset (either "weary" or "bloody" depending on whether we are talking about a TV show or war). He evokes the concept "since the dawn of time" by picking a thing that has been on Earth for eons-- the "watermelon."
And while he acknowledges that some reformers have asked if the myth can ever be shattered by an alternative social construct ("Somebody said, 'What's a better thing to do?'"), he admits that this is unlikely, as the problem is so pervasive. It is both interpersonal and global: "It's not just me, and it's not just you/ This is all around the world."
And so not just South Africa. The myth lead to apartheid, to be sure, but the issues of discrimination and segregation do not by any means end with the borders in which this abhorrent practice dwelt.
As many problems as the myth causes, from individual alienation to civil-rights violation to international conflagration, the myth is too appealing for anyone to want to dispense with it. (To be fair, social experiments in which millions of people were treated exactly the same-- Mao's China, for instance-- have not necessarily been successful, either.)
In a sense, this song is Simon's response to John Lennon's "Imagine." In that song, Lennon explains what if would take for humanity to "live as one." Simon responds that this goal will remain imaginary as long as we buy into the "myth" that each of us is unique.
There is no "humanity," all the with the same ancestry and DNA, each of us says. There are only us "humans" and our own snowflake-unique "fingerprints."
(OK, fine... my personal guess? I think the "former talk-show host" is Phil Donahue, but I have no proof; the character may be entirely imaginary. The whole idea of using such a figure to deliver the message of the song might simply have been Simon's attempt to find someone who would have conversed with the widest range of people.)
Musical Note:
The backing band for this track is by the very talented and wide-ranging act Los Lobos.
Sadly, there is some contention over the degree of their contribution to the track. Los Lobos is credited with playing and harmonizing, but not co-authorship. They claim that Simon did not credit them properly for coming up with the song and outright "stole" it. The album's notes credit Simon solely.
While I, of course, have no idea who is right, it seems dubious that Simon would share credit with so many others on this album-- five co-writers, on five of the 11 tracks-- and not them. Simon also points out that the first he had heard of this accusation was six months after the record had been released.
At least Los Lobos can be "comforted" by the knowledge that this track was not a hit.
IMPACT:
The song did not chart, but its title was taken for a movie. The Myth of Fingerprints is a 1997 release about a dysfunctional family on a Thanksgiving weekend. (The movie was not a hit either.)
Next Song: Changing Opinion
The main character in this song, however, the "former talk-show host," dismisses this idea as a "myth." As he says, "I've seen them all/ And... they're all the same."
Meaning that the idea of people being unique is a myth. The host is not bragging that he has literally seen every fingerprint of every person-- not even the FBI's experts have done that. Rather, in his line of work, he has met enough people of all walks of life-- from celebrities to those of us who will never be-- to know that people are truly more alike than they are different.
The opening line, "over the mountain, down in the valley," is likely not a throw-away line by Simon, but probably a reference to Hollywood, which lies in a valley... near the mountain the famous HOLLYWOOD sign is on.
The second verse shifts the scene dramatically to "Out in the Indian Ocean somewhere," where, on some island, lies a "former Army post." We can guess that this is a relic of the Viet Nam War, but might also date back to WWII.
In any case, the host explains that this is one of the results of the myth of individuality. If we did not separate ourselves into factions, insisting upon the reality of imagined (or over-emphasized) differences, he posits, there would be no more wars. And so no need of Army posts-- they would all become "former" ones.
The last verse returns us to the talk-show host's living room couch. This pernicious myth, he concludes, doesn't only foster international conflict. It also has more a personal impact. It causes us to "live alone." We can never be truly united and truly live together, he sighs, if we continue to declare that we are as unique as our fingerprints.
As if the jump from a "talk-show host" to an "army post" wasn't enormous enough, Simon elaborates that the "myth" is pervasive throughout time and space. For time, he talks about a day, from sun-up to a sunset (either "weary" or "bloody" depending on whether we are talking about a TV show or war). He evokes the concept "since the dawn of time" by picking a thing that has been on Earth for eons-- the "watermelon."
And while he acknowledges that some reformers have asked if the myth can ever be shattered by an alternative social construct ("Somebody said, 'What's a better thing to do?'"), he admits that this is unlikely, as the problem is so pervasive. It is both interpersonal and global: "It's not just me, and it's not just you/ This is all around the world."
And so not just South Africa. The myth lead to apartheid, to be sure, but the issues of discrimination and segregation do not by any means end with the borders in which this abhorrent practice dwelt.
As many problems as the myth causes, from individual alienation to civil-rights violation to international conflagration, the myth is too appealing for anyone to want to dispense with it. (To be fair, social experiments in which millions of people were treated exactly the same-- Mao's China, for instance-- have not necessarily been successful, either.)
In a sense, this song is Simon's response to John Lennon's "Imagine." In that song, Lennon explains what if would take for humanity to "live as one." Simon responds that this goal will remain imaginary as long as we buy into the "myth" that each of us is unique.
There is no "humanity," all the with the same ancestry and DNA, each of us says. There are only us "humans" and our own snowflake-unique "fingerprints."
(OK, fine... my personal guess? I think the "former talk-show host" is Phil Donahue, but I have no proof; the character may be entirely imaginary. The whole idea of using such a figure to deliver the message of the song might simply have been Simon's attempt to find someone who would have conversed with the widest range of people.)
Musical Note:
The backing band for this track is by the very talented and wide-ranging act Los Lobos.
Sadly, there is some contention over the degree of their contribution to the track. Los Lobos is credited with playing and harmonizing, but not co-authorship. They claim that Simon did not credit them properly for coming up with the song and outright "stole" it. The album's notes credit Simon solely.
While I, of course, have no idea who is right, it seems dubious that Simon would share credit with so many others on this album-- five co-writers, on five of the 11 tracks-- and not them. Simon also points out that the first he had heard of this accusation was six months after the record had been released.
At least Los Lobos can be "comforted" by the knowledge that this track was not a hit.
IMPACT:
The song did not chart, but its title was taken for a movie. The Myth of Fingerprints is a 1997 release about a dysfunctional family on a Thanksgiving weekend. (The movie was not a hit either.)
Next Song: Changing Opinion
Monday, May 16, 2011
Have a Good Time
Looking back over the last three songs, we find somewhat of a trilogy. In "Gone at Last," we find a sad person whose spirit was lifted when his "burden" was "shared" by another. In "Some Folks' Lives," we have a sad person who seeks solace from God.
In this song, the speaker is not sad, but by his own admission, he "should be depressed." Was his burden shared? Did he find religion? Nope.
He's just decided to have a good time.
There is a line in the movie (I know, again with the movie quotes) Spinal Tap that informs. Viv, the keyboardist, is asked by the interviewer, "What is your philosophy of life?" Viv responds, inserting a dramatic pause, "Have a good time... all the time." Rather than be seen as a call to hedonism (which it probably was), it could also be taken in reverse: "All the time, regardless of what is happening, try to enjoy the situation and find the fun in it."
We begin with an idea one seldom hears in a song. Rather than a song about a birthday, it's a song about a day after a birthday. Whether the ongoing sex our speaker has been "exhausted" by was in celebration of the occasion or has been going on for some time now is immaterial. The point is, he has neglected his health and his need for sleep in pursuit of immediate gratification. His body is begging him to take a break... "But a voice in [his] head says, "Oh, what the Hell-- have a good time."
In the previous number, the speaker began by speaking in general terms ("some folks") and moved to the personal ("Here I am") and back. In this song, the speaker starts with personal information and now moves to commentary on the State of the World.
He derides Midwestern puritanism as mindless, phobic "paranoia," and shrugs that the press is less interested in informing him than seducing him for his "dime." He is neither, he concludes, "worrying" about the news or his soul, nor "scurrying" along with the rat race up the corporate ladder (that is not a mixed metaphor-- rats can race up ladders if they want to, so there).
He does ponder that he might be imprudent in his unwillingness to care for himself, plan for the future, or consider his fellow man. His conclusion again is a shrug: "What can be done?" Nothing he is willing to do, certainly.
God is interjected here, but not in a prayerful way as in "Some Folks." Here, God is just another commodity, another convenience. The same way a carpet cleaner might be called to deal with a stain on the rug, God Himself is told to bless our things --"the goods we was given"-- and to bless "our standard of livin'." In between is the usual "God bless America" we hear at the end of presidential speeches.
Usually, it is Randy Newman giving us cynical songs about careless Americans whose attitude is that the world is a paper cup-- there for their convenience and disposal-- with songs like "It's Money That Matters" and "My Life is Good." Here, it is Simon taking the voice of a heedless, feckless boor.
Who is, nevertheless, having a good time. Until he truly runs that body down.
Musical note:
The sax solo is by jazz bebop virtuoso Phil Woods, who has recorded with everyone from Dizzy Gillespie to Thelonius Monk. But you most likely know his solo from Billy Joel's song "Just the Way You Are."
Valerie Simpson, of Ashford and Simpson fame, does the backup vocals on this track, too.
Next Song: You're Kind
In this song, the speaker is not sad, but by his own admission, he "should be depressed." Was his burden shared? Did he find religion? Nope.
He's just decided to have a good time.
There is a line in the movie (I know, again with the movie quotes) Spinal Tap that informs. Viv, the keyboardist, is asked by the interviewer, "What is your philosophy of life?" Viv responds, inserting a dramatic pause, "Have a good time... all the time." Rather than be seen as a call to hedonism (which it probably was), it could also be taken in reverse: "All the time, regardless of what is happening, try to enjoy the situation and find the fun in it."
We begin with an idea one seldom hears in a song. Rather than a song about a birthday, it's a song about a day after a birthday. Whether the ongoing sex our speaker has been "exhausted" by was in celebration of the occasion or has been going on for some time now is immaterial. The point is, he has neglected his health and his need for sleep in pursuit of immediate gratification. His body is begging him to take a break... "But a voice in [his] head says, "Oh, what the Hell-- have a good time."
In the previous number, the speaker began by speaking in general terms ("some folks") and moved to the personal ("Here I am") and back. In this song, the speaker starts with personal information and now moves to commentary on the State of the World.
He derides Midwestern puritanism as mindless, phobic "paranoia," and shrugs that the press is less interested in informing him than seducing him for his "dime." He is neither, he concludes, "worrying" about the news or his soul, nor "scurrying" along with the rat race up the corporate ladder (that is not a mixed metaphor-- rats can race up ladders if they want to, so there).
He does ponder that he might be imprudent in his unwillingness to care for himself, plan for the future, or consider his fellow man. His conclusion again is a shrug: "What can be done?" Nothing he is willing to do, certainly.
God is interjected here, but not in a prayerful way as in "Some Folks." Here, God is just another commodity, another convenience. The same way a carpet cleaner might be called to deal with a stain on the rug, God Himself is told to bless our things --"the goods we was given"-- and to bless "our standard of livin'." In between is the usual "God bless America" we hear at the end of presidential speeches.
Usually, it is Randy Newman giving us cynical songs about careless Americans whose attitude is that the world is a paper cup-- there for their convenience and disposal-- with songs like "It's Money That Matters" and "My Life is Good." Here, it is Simon taking the voice of a heedless, feckless boor.
Who is, nevertheless, having a good time. Until he truly runs that body down.
Musical note:
The sax solo is by jazz bebop virtuoso Phil Woods, who has recorded with everyone from Dizzy Gillespie to Thelonius Monk. But you most likely know his solo from Billy Joel's song "Just the Way You Are."
Valerie Simpson, of Ashford and Simpson fame, does the backup vocals on this track, too.
Next Song: You're Kind
Saturday, April 3, 2010
7 O'Clock News
This innovative track has an anchorman reading the news while S&G sing the classic Christmas carol "Silent Night" over it twice. The contrast between the dire declarations of the newscast and the comforting calm of the noel calls into question the power of the carol's religious message. How on earth are we supposed to "sleep in Heavenly peace"... when all this is going on?
As Simon, of course, did not write "Silent Night," we will focus on the text of the imagined newscast, which is attributed to him. There are several clues that this is not an actual newscast.
The first one is in its first line: "The recent fight in the House of Representatives was over..." An actual newscast would have said something more like: "There was a debate today in the House of Representatives over..." Simon first assumes that there is a fight, always, and the news' job is just to tell us about the "recent" one. He then uses the word "fight," which is pejorative. Of course the House debates issues; that's what it does. Even if all the viewers agree that the House members more accurately "fight" than "debate," a news report would not likely describe it so.
The next line makes no sense. If the bill was supported even by "traditional enemies" of such measures, why was it left without the "votes of [its] strongest supporters"? Weren't they there to vote on such a key bill? If not, they how could they have been considered "supporters" to begin with, let alone its "strongest" ones?
The third line is clearly written by a cynic commenting on the news, and not the newscaster himself: "...but it had no chance from the start and everyone in Congress knew it."
The item about Lenny Bruce should probably not be next. Celebrity news is often last, or-- if about their death-- first. Simon adds this item to show that one of the major voices of reason and hope, one that could challenge the establishment, has been silenced when it was perhaps needed most.
The piece about Martin Luther King Jr., should follow next. It is about his response to the "open housing" situation, the subject of the fought-about bill from the first item. This item is well written. It shows how the law enforcement structure tried to get King to "be reasonable," and even threaten him-- to cast him as if he were the one causing the unrest, not the ridiculous laws he challenged-- and then make him look like he didn't respect the police if he went through with it, that rabble-rouser. Simon manages to get through this item without injecting a distracting, unrealistic commentary.
Let us assume that "nine student nurses" did not share a single "apartment," but that this was a typo that somehow got read into the script. The item about Speck is true-- he was a serial killer, and this was his M.O. He was found guilty.
So far, we have a country with an uncaring government that throws its hands up at housing discrimination and a citizenry terrorized by madmen, while those who try to call attention to the issues are either dead or shouted down.
The last news item repeats this pattern. This time, hundreds and thousands of citizens are protesting against the war in Vietnam. Again, instead of addressing the issue and ending the war, the government-- both the House and the White House-- takes aim against those who want it stopped, going so far as to banish them from the halls where they are supposed to be represented, and to even blame them for prolonging the war they oppose... by the act of opposing it. (Well, how are you supposed to stop it, then? By supporting it?!)
Over all this, the soothing lullaby of "Silent Night" sounds ludicrously out-of-touch. Simon has questioned and even attacked religion before, in songs like "Bleeker Street," in which the Shepherd is hidden, "Sparrow" (if, as the spiritual would have it, "His eye is on the sparrow," it wasn't on this sparrow), the subverted Sermon on the Mount of "Blessed," and even "Patterns," which struggles with the idea of predestination.
Here, Simon posits that, if not God, then at least religion had little to say about what was going on in the 1960s.
But if Simon felt that religious leaders were not addressing the realities of his day, he forgot that Martin Luther King, Jr., was a "reverend" as well as a "doctor" and scholar (he is only called "doctor" in the newscast). King was joined in his marches by many religious leaders, including Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. God's servants were responding to the news, and many-- including King-- paid with their lives.
This carol is a song of Jesus as helpless newborn baby. So we get the message that, as far as religion is concerned, speaking against the government will only get you shouted down... you might as well just go to "sleep."
But juxtaposing this newscast with a song about the rebel Jesus who spoke against the oppressive establishment of his day and was killed for it would have made the point that, if speaking truth to power is an uphill struggle, then nothing has changed in human life in thousands of years. In Jesus' case, however, the Roman Empire eventually collapsed due-- at least in part-- to his words. So using Jesus as a case study in the ineffectuality of religious leaders is somewhat spurious.
As I write this, it is both Passover and Easter weekend, and my wife is in the other room watching The Ten Commandments on TV. One is left to imagine this newscast accompanied instead by the spiritual about its central figure, Moses, "Let My People Go," which was sung frequently in the 1960s.
Religious leaders did, and do, care about the events of their day. While some (and some of the loudest) have always tended toward the extreme-- on both the right and left-- most do try help, heal, and promote unity.
And really, is it so wrong to yearn for a time when "all is calm/all is bright"? Or, in other words, when "all is groovy"?
It is interesting that the albums starts with "Scarborough Fair/Canticle" and ends with another track with a "/" in the title. In both cases, a lovely old song is interwoven with a poem or essay about the terrible things going on right now. This was the struggle of the folk-music movement-- the desire to make sure these old songs continued to be sung, while having to also address the painful realities of the the time. Maybe someday, we will be able to just sit and sing pretty songs and not have to sing them over the daily "here are the terrible things that happened today" newscast.
Someday.
Next Song: Save the Life if My Child
As Simon, of course, did not write "Silent Night," we will focus on the text of the imagined newscast, which is attributed to him. There are several clues that this is not an actual newscast.
The first one is in its first line: "The recent fight in the House of Representatives was over..." An actual newscast would have said something more like: "There was a debate today in the House of Representatives over..." Simon first assumes that there is a fight, always, and the news' job is just to tell us about the "recent" one. He then uses the word "fight," which is pejorative. Of course the House debates issues; that's what it does. Even if all the viewers agree that the House members more accurately "fight" than "debate," a news report would not likely describe it so.
The next line makes no sense. If the bill was supported even by "traditional enemies" of such measures, why was it left without the "votes of [its] strongest supporters"? Weren't they there to vote on such a key bill? If not, they how could they have been considered "supporters" to begin with, let alone its "strongest" ones?
The third line is clearly written by a cynic commenting on the news, and not the newscaster himself: "...but it had no chance from the start and everyone in Congress knew it."
The item about Lenny Bruce should probably not be next. Celebrity news is often last, or-- if about their death-- first. Simon adds this item to show that one of the major voices of reason and hope, one that could challenge the establishment, has been silenced when it was perhaps needed most.
The piece about Martin Luther King Jr., should follow next. It is about his response to the "open housing" situation, the subject of the fought-about bill from the first item. This item is well written. It shows how the law enforcement structure tried to get King to "be reasonable," and even threaten him-- to cast him as if he were the one causing the unrest, not the ridiculous laws he challenged-- and then make him look like he didn't respect the police if he went through with it, that rabble-rouser. Simon manages to get through this item without injecting a distracting, unrealistic commentary.
Let us assume that "nine student nurses" did not share a single "apartment," but that this was a typo that somehow got read into the script. The item about Speck is true-- he was a serial killer, and this was his M.O. He was found guilty.
So far, we have a country with an uncaring government that throws its hands up at housing discrimination and a citizenry terrorized by madmen, while those who try to call attention to the issues are either dead or shouted down.
The last news item repeats this pattern. This time, hundreds and thousands of citizens are protesting against the war in Vietnam. Again, instead of addressing the issue and ending the war, the government-- both the House and the White House-- takes aim against those who want it stopped, going so far as to banish them from the halls where they are supposed to be represented, and to even blame them for prolonging the war they oppose... by the act of opposing it. (Well, how are you supposed to stop it, then? By supporting it?!)
Over all this, the soothing lullaby of "Silent Night" sounds ludicrously out-of-touch. Simon has questioned and even attacked religion before, in songs like "Bleeker Street," in which the Shepherd is hidden, "Sparrow" (if, as the spiritual would have it, "His eye is on the sparrow," it wasn't on this sparrow), the subverted Sermon on the Mount of "Blessed," and even "Patterns," which struggles with the idea of predestination.
Here, Simon posits that, if not God, then at least religion had little to say about what was going on in the 1960s.
But if Simon felt that religious leaders were not addressing the realities of his day, he forgot that Martin Luther King, Jr., was a "reverend" as well as a "doctor" and scholar (he is only called "doctor" in the newscast). King was joined in his marches by many religious leaders, including Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. God's servants were responding to the news, and many-- including King-- paid with their lives.
This carol is a song of Jesus as helpless newborn baby. So we get the message that, as far as religion is concerned, speaking against the government will only get you shouted down... you might as well just go to "sleep."
But juxtaposing this newscast with a song about the rebel Jesus who spoke against the oppressive establishment of his day and was killed for it would have made the point that, if speaking truth to power is an uphill struggle, then nothing has changed in human life in thousands of years. In Jesus' case, however, the Roman Empire eventually collapsed due-- at least in part-- to his words. So using Jesus as a case study in the ineffectuality of religious leaders is somewhat spurious.
As I write this, it is both Passover and Easter weekend, and my wife is in the other room watching The Ten Commandments on TV. One is left to imagine this newscast accompanied instead by the spiritual about its central figure, Moses, "Let My People Go," which was sung frequently in the 1960s.
Religious leaders did, and do, care about the events of their day. While some (and some of the loudest) have always tended toward the extreme-- on both the right and left-- most do try help, heal, and promote unity.
And really, is it so wrong to yearn for a time when "all is calm/all is bright"? Or, in other words, when "all is groovy"?
It is interesting that the albums starts with "Scarborough Fair/Canticle" and ends with another track with a "/" in the title. In both cases, a lovely old song is interwoven with a poem or essay about the terrible things going on right now. This was the struggle of the folk-music movement-- the desire to make sure these old songs continued to be sung, while having to also address the painful realities of the the time. Maybe someday, we will be able to just sit and sing pretty songs and not have to sing them over the daily "here are the terrible things that happened today" newscast.
Someday.
Next Song: Save the Life if My Child
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