The "fairy-tale" referred to in this song-- "breadcrumbs in a... forest"-- is the Grimm Brothers' "Hansel and Gretl."
The speaker (probably Simon, given whom he quotes later) begins this song by saying that another fairy-tale we hear is that "acts of kindness... lead us past dangers." But "I don't believe," he says, that this is the case. Continuing the image of a tale told around a campfire or hearth-fire, he says "I lean closer to the fire, but I'm cold." He wants to believe, that is, but his skepticism prevents it.
Then he tells another tale, about the creation of the world: "The earth was born in a storm" could refer to either The Big Bang or Genesis 1:6-7. The next words seem to be taken from Genesis 1:9-- "The waters receded, the mountains were formed"-- and scientists might agree that at some point, this happened through plate tectonics (adding that such movement is still happening), and that maybe the "waters" were in the form of icy glaciers. Simon's point is that in either case, there is a narrative, and you can choose to accept it or not.
The next line comes from a more recent source-- his wife! The "E.B." the quote is attributed to is Edie Brickell, who was remarking on the 2004 Bush vs. Kerry election that "the universe loves a drama." It's not enough that there be a narrative. It must be... dramatic! Even if it's just a bunch of exit-poll statistics.
What spurred all of this deep rumination on the subjective nature of reality? "I got a call from my broker/ The broker informed me I'm broke." Well. That could certainly shake up one's day. The breadcrumbs in the story were eaten by birds, you may recall, which is why the children could not find their way back home and ended up confronting the witch.
The speaker feels lost and betrayed. He feels that his "guardian angel" is, instead of guarding him, "taunt[ing]" him. Meanwhile, his children and wife, ignorant of their sudden impoverishment, are enjoying the "warm summer evening" by "laughing" and "brushing her... hair," with "not a whisper of care."
So here he was, being a responsible adult with investments and such, and then, poof! It is not surprising he is questioning the ephemeral nature of his narrative.
Yet, if he lacks faith in "acts of kindness," he has faith in something else. "I don't believe a heart can be filled to the brim/ Then vanish like mist." Kindness is one thing-- it's a sheet of ice over a lake that may or may not be thick enough to walk on. But the heart is a boat, a bridge. If you have a firm relationship, you don't need to "depend," as Blanche DuBois does, on the "kindness of strangers."
Unless... "Maybe the heart is part of the mist/ and that's all that... could ever exist." What if his wife leaves because of this? He's been divorced twice already! How silly to trust love-- hasn't he learned?
"Maybe and maybe and maybe some more"-- This cry of despair echoes Macbeth's "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow." And like the weary King, he curses himself for having faith in anything: "Maybe's the exit that I'm looking for." Macbeth is looking for an exit, too: "Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a... tale told by an idiot... signifying nothing." A tale, or a "fairy-tale," perhaps?
But then, another call... "My broker said he was mistaken." So he is not "broke" at all, and he luckily did not worry his wife for nothing. The broker adds that he hopes that his "faith isn't shaken." He's a bit late for that...
Well, most people would be overjoyed at such news, and our speaker is. "Acts of kindness," he says, "release the spirit with a whoop and a shout."
But even in this state of relief, he feels changed. What if the second call had not come? What if something like this were to actually happen? Just because it wasn't real this time does not mean it could not someday be so.
So he closes by saying that, while he has not necessarily written off prayer altogether (which is good, considering "Wartime Prayers" was just two songs ago), that the idea of an organized religion is no longer appealing. If anything, life obviously rests daintily on chaos-- on plate tectonics and other shifting realities-- to simply accept and trust, to impose a structure on a faith.
He says, "I don't believe we were born to be sheep... To pantomime prayers with the hands of a clock." This last line can be read two ways. One is "[along] with the hands of a clock," at set times. The other is "with hands like clock hands," with rigidity and a mechanical attitude. If life is fluid, then prayer must be as well. You should be able to pray when you need to!
And maybe you should not believe in fairy tales or rely on kindness or even have perfect faith in love. Maybe faith has to be be as fluid as life itself is, with swells and ebbs and tides.
Galileo responded to accusations that his science was a form of heresy by saying that he did not believe that God gave us brains and then wanted us to not use them. Questioning is not the opposite of faith-- it is a form of faith. It is the belief that, even when we question, there is an answer.
So no, the speaker says, "I don't believe... I do something better: I trust."
Next Song: Another Galaxy
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Monday, March 4, 2013
Monday, February 6, 2012
Under African Skies
In this short song-- two verses, one chorus-- Simon pays tribute to two remarkable singers.
The first is the man who started, and still leads, the South African chorus Ladysmith Black Mambazo. His name is Joseph Shabalala (accent on the first "la"). The verse, however, reveals precious little. We learn only that he is "black" and "African," and we might infer from the mention of the "moon" and "stars" that he liked to take walks at night.
The second verse seems to refer to Linda Ronstadt (with whom Simon duets on this number), a powerful singer with an enormous range, both vocally and genre-wise. As the song correctly reports, Ronstadt is from "Tucson, Arizona."
"Mission music" would be hymns emanating from the "missions," Catholic missionary churches (including The Alamo, in Texas) that dot the Southwest, which often had bells (the "ringing" in the song). What relationship a young Ronstadt had with such music I cannot find. Perhaps it was sung to her by her parents or grandparents, perhaps she joined a choir, perhaps he simply heard it as she passed by the church doors. In any event, the song suggests it was an influence on her music.
The word "harmony" seems to refer simply to "music." While Ronstadt has had several successful duets, notably with Aaron Neville of The Neville Brothers, the large majority of her work is as a solo vocalist. She was also in a trio called simply Trio, with Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris (they recorded two albums, which I recommend).
Lastly, the idea that Ronstadt would ask no more of God than a beautiful voice and the ability to use it-- "Take this child, Lord... give her the wings to fly through harmony/ And she won’t bother you no more"-- is again a matter of speculation. I cannot speak to her religion, intensity of religious practice, or feelings on religious matters whatsoever, although that information may be available elsewhere. The lyrics suggest, however, that Ronstadt's relationship with religion can at least be described as aloof.
Why is it necessary to discuss where, and from what background, a musician comes? The answer is offered in the chorus: "This is the story of how we begin to remember... These are the roots of rhythm."
The story of the singer, in other words, is the story of the songs. In order to learn about the music he had loved his whole life, Simon had to trace the lineage of the sounds back to their root sources... which was the point of the Graceland project altogether.
Simon found, on his journey, Joseph, a man whose lifetime in Africa, and African music, was a treasure-trove for Simon. He also discovered, or perhaps realized, that he had had fellow travelers on this road.
Ronstadt, his contemporary, was one. After a life of singing pop, rock, country, and jazz-- and two years after recording this song with Simon-- she recorded an album whose Spanish title means "Songs from My Father," who was (among other things) of Mexican descent. But she had already explored the rich variety of American song, as Simon had, in the 1960s, '70s, and '80s.
What else do the stories convey? "This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein." The basic rhythms of all music are traceable to the human heartbeat. But blood is only in the vein because love put it there, and the loves and heartbeats-- the people, soul and body-- who came before... and their stories.
When does one become very aware of one's heartbeat? Upon awakening from a nightmare: "After the dream of falling and calling your name out."
And, in this moment of despair, of fright, what does one's heartbeat do? Calms one down. It reassures the dreamer that he is still alive and safe. Similarly, music can have that reassuring effect on the throes of living itself.
The stories and the heartbeats form and inform the music. These things are ever new, but ever the same. There is both freedom and solidity in that.
"These are the stories of how we begin to remember"-- the stories of the musicians are the stories of the music, and the stories and songs both recall the past. "This is the powerful pulsing of love"-- these rhythms come from those heartbeats.
"These," then, "are the roots of rhythm," Simon concludes, "and the roots of rhythm remain." They were there, waiting for Simon to discover them, decades and oceans away from where he was born.
How wonderful to know that they will always be there, whenever we need to look for them.
NOTE:
Simon performed this song as part of his Graceland concert in Africa. Ronstadt did not join him on stage for this number; instead, Miriam Makeba did. She is known as "Mama Africa" on her home continent, but has an international hit called "Pata Pata" in 1967. She lived in exile for decades due to her opposition to South African apartheid. In her honor, Simon wrote new lyrics to the song for her to sing that were about her life instead of Ronstadt's.
IMPACT:
2012 marks the 25th anniversary of the Graceland release. It is being marked by the release of a documentary of the making of the album. The film's title comes from the title of this song: Paul Simon: Under African Skies. There is another documentary about the album, part of the "Classic Albums" series of videos.
Next song: "Homeless"
The first is the man who started, and still leads, the South African chorus Ladysmith Black Mambazo. His name is Joseph Shabalala (accent on the first "la"). The verse, however, reveals precious little. We learn only that he is "black" and "African," and we might infer from the mention of the "moon" and "stars" that he liked to take walks at night.
The second verse seems to refer to Linda Ronstadt (with whom Simon duets on this number), a powerful singer with an enormous range, both vocally and genre-wise. As the song correctly reports, Ronstadt is from "Tucson, Arizona."
"Mission music" would be hymns emanating from the "missions," Catholic missionary churches (including The Alamo, in Texas) that dot the Southwest, which often had bells (the "ringing" in the song). What relationship a young Ronstadt had with such music I cannot find. Perhaps it was sung to her by her parents or grandparents, perhaps she joined a choir, perhaps he simply heard it as she passed by the church doors. In any event, the song suggests it was an influence on her music.
The word "harmony" seems to refer simply to "music." While Ronstadt has had several successful duets, notably with Aaron Neville of The Neville Brothers, the large majority of her work is as a solo vocalist. She was also in a trio called simply Trio, with Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris (they recorded two albums, which I recommend).
Lastly, the idea that Ronstadt would ask no more of God than a beautiful voice and the ability to use it-- "Take this child, Lord... give her the wings to fly through harmony/ And she won’t bother you no more"-- is again a matter of speculation. I cannot speak to her religion, intensity of religious practice, or feelings on religious matters whatsoever, although that information may be available elsewhere. The lyrics suggest, however, that Ronstadt's relationship with religion can at least be described as aloof.
Why is it necessary to discuss where, and from what background, a musician comes? The answer is offered in the chorus: "This is the story of how we begin to remember... These are the roots of rhythm."
The story of the singer, in other words, is the story of the songs. In order to learn about the music he had loved his whole life, Simon had to trace the lineage of the sounds back to their root sources... which was the point of the Graceland project altogether.
Simon found, on his journey, Joseph, a man whose lifetime in Africa, and African music, was a treasure-trove for Simon. He also discovered, or perhaps realized, that he had had fellow travelers on this road.
Ronstadt, his contemporary, was one. After a life of singing pop, rock, country, and jazz-- and two years after recording this song with Simon-- she recorded an album whose Spanish title means "Songs from My Father," who was (among other things) of Mexican descent. But she had already explored the rich variety of American song, as Simon had, in the 1960s, '70s, and '80s.
What else do the stories convey? "This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein." The basic rhythms of all music are traceable to the human heartbeat. But blood is only in the vein because love put it there, and the loves and heartbeats-- the people, soul and body-- who came before... and their stories.
When does one become very aware of one's heartbeat? Upon awakening from a nightmare: "After the dream of falling and calling your name out."
And, in this moment of despair, of fright, what does one's heartbeat do? Calms one down. It reassures the dreamer that he is still alive and safe. Similarly, music can have that reassuring effect on the throes of living itself.
The stories and the heartbeats form and inform the music. These things are ever new, but ever the same. There is both freedom and solidity in that.
"These are the stories of how we begin to remember"-- the stories of the musicians are the stories of the music, and the stories and songs both recall the past. "This is the powerful pulsing of love"-- these rhythms come from those heartbeats.
"These," then, "are the roots of rhythm," Simon concludes, "and the roots of rhythm remain." They were there, waiting for Simon to discover them, decades and oceans away from where he was born.
How wonderful to know that they will always be there, whenever we need to look for them.
NOTE:
Simon performed this song as part of his Graceland concert in Africa. Ronstadt did not join him on stage for this number; instead, Miriam Makeba did. She is known as "Mama Africa" on her home continent, but has an international hit called "Pata Pata" in 1967. She lived in exile for decades due to her opposition to South African apartheid. In her honor, Simon wrote new lyrics to the song for her to sing that were about her life instead of Ronstadt's.
(added in 2023) Simon sometimes... recycles song titles from others, as he did with "Darling Lorraine." Here, the title "Under African Skies" is the English translation of a French song, "Sous de Ciel Africaine." That song dates to 1935... and is also a duet!
No, the French did not engage in "cultural appropriation" of Black culture-- the song was sung by a Black woman, the famous early 20th Century entertainer Josephine Baker. The other "voice" in the duet is an ensemble with a sad story (also captured documentary, movie, and stage form) called The Comedian Harmonists.
Briefly: they were a sextet rising in fame with their close harmonies; the comedic aspect came from their satires on the sappy "Moone-June" songs of the day. They were forcibly disbanded by the Nazis as half of the six were Jews.
That an African-American woman could sing with six white Germans (including three Jews) in French-- and have a hit!-- shows just how integrated all communities have been, and could be, through music. If Simon knew of the song and its story, it seems very fitting that he'd reuse the title for his own male-female, Jewish-Christian duet about Africa.
Oh... the song itself? It celebrates how life is freer in the "bright, blue, happy" Africa than in a gray city like Paris. The French lyrics and English translations are online, as is the song.
I just happened upon this song on a Comedian Harmonists album, this month!
No, the French did not engage in "cultural appropriation" of Black culture-- the song was sung by a Black woman, the famous early 20th Century entertainer Josephine Baker. The other "voice" in the duet is an ensemble with a sad story (also captured documentary, movie, and stage form) called The Comedian Harmonists.
Briefly: they were a sextet rising in fame with their close harmonies; the comedic aspect came from their satires on the sappy "Moone-June" songs of the day. They were forcibly disbanded by the Nazis as half of the six were Jews.
That an African-American woman could sing with six white Germans (including three Jews) in French-- and have a hit!-- shows just how integrated all communities have been, and could be, through music. If Simon knew of the song and its story, it seems very fitting that he'd reuse the title for his own male-female, Jewish-Christian duet about Africa.
Oh... the song itself? It celebrates how life is freer in the "bright, blue, happy" Africa than in a gray city like Paris. The French lyrics and English translations are online, as is the song.
I just happened upon this song on a Comedian Harmonists album, this month!
IMPACT:
2012 marks the 25th anniversary of the Graceland release. It is being marked by the release of a documentary of the making of the album. The film's title comes from the title of this song: Paul Simon: Under African Skies. There is another documentary about the album, part of the "Classic Albums" series of videos.
Next song: "Homeless"
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