Music
I believe that music has incredibly powerful properties that can evoke stirrings within us in ways other stimuli cannot. It may effortlessly summon intense feelings of melancholy, nostalgia, curiosity, excitement, and bliss (to name a few). I like to say that music is the breath of the soul.
I love roaming the used vinyl section of a record store seeking a new sound I’m not yet privy to. On occasion, I’ll buy an unknown album sight unseen (or sound unheard to be more precise), based simply off the cover, track listing, and a hunch, hoping to be pleasantly surprised at my risky five dollar wager.
Sometimes I like listening to music in a language I don’t understand. It focuses my attention to the pure emotions that the artist is attempting to convey. And because I don’t comprehend the words, the tune always lends itself an air of mystery that it may otherwise not have transferred.
When I do understand the words, I enjoy songs that tell an almost cinematic story. The kind of experience where you can imagine yourself in a locale far from your current one, witnessing subtle yet meaningful events that stay with you long after they’ve passed. Events that leave you with unique and obscure sentiments whose origins you can’t quite put your finger on. But they resonate strongly nonetheless.
I’d like to share lyrics of songs from some of my favorite artists. The first is by the great Tom Waits. Here, he waxes philosophical about a down-and-out street on Skid Row famous for being a landing spot for the destitute.
ON THE NICKEL
Sticks and stones will break my bones
But I always will be true
And when your mama is dead and gone
I'll sing this lullaby just for you
So what becomes of all the little boys
Who never comb their hair?
They're lined up all around the block
On The Nickel over there
So you better bring a bucket
There is a hole in the pail
If you don't get my letter
Then you'll know that I'm in jail
So what becomes of all the little boys
Who never say their prayers?
They're sleepin' like a baby
On The Nickel over there
If you chew tobacco, and wish upon a star
You'll find out where the scarecrows sit
Just like punchlines between the cars
I know a place where a royal flush
Can never beat a pair
And even Thomas Jefferson
Is On The Nickel over there
So ring around the rosie, you're sleepin' in the rain
And you're always late for supper
And man you let me down, let me down again
I thought I heard a mockingbird, Roosevelt knows where
You can skip the light with grady tuck
On the Nickel over there
So what becomes of all the little boys
Who run away from home?
The world just keeps gettin' bigger
Once you get out on your own
So what becomes of all the little boys
The sandman takes you where
You'll be sleepin' with a pillowman
On the Nickel over there
So let's climb up through that button hole
And fall right up the stairs
I'll show you where the short dogs grow
On the Nickel over there
Next up is a Swede whose voice could easily be mistaken for a yank belting out a slice of pure Americana among the backroads of the USA. His name is Daniel Norgren. In my opinion, like Tom Waits, he’s never written a single bad song. That is rare.
IF YOU LOOK AT THE PICTURE TOO LONG
There´s a picture hanging in the outhouse
Of glory and love and so on
But the colors look like they are cheating
If you look at the picture too long
Where the blissful hummingbirds are singing
And the willow is humming along
But your guts may soon distrust the vision
If you look at the picture too long
Where all the flowers are in blossom
And the people looks happy and strong
But a dreamer's brush may be suspected
If you look at the picture too long
Now, a creation by Conor Oberst who hails from Omaha. His band is called BRIGHT EYES. I’ve had many a long weary night in cities and towns after a party or two, waiting long with a fellow reveler for the inevitable daybreak to perhaps reconcile confounding differences that lie within the chasm between an old dusk and the new dawn. It's an odd place to sit. And this song often reminds me of that.
I know that it is freezing
But I think we have to walk
Keep waving at the taxis
They keep turning their lights off
But Julie knows a party at some actor’s Westside loft
Supplies are endless in the evening
By the morning they’ll be gone
When everything is lonely
I can be my own best friend
I get a coffee and the paper
Have my own conversations
With the sidewalk and the pigeons
And my window reflection
The mask I polish in the evening
By the morning looks like shit
And I know you have a heavy heart
I can feel it when we kiss
So many men stronger than me
Have thrown their backs out trying to lift it
But me, I’m not a gamble
You can count on me to split
The love I sell you in the evening
By the morning won’t exist
You’re looking skinny like a model
With your eyes all painted black
Just keep going to the bathroom
Always say you’ll be right back
Well it takes one to know one, kid
I think you’ve got it bad
But what’s so easy in the evening
By the morning’s such a drag
I’ve got a flask inside my pocket
We can share it on the train
And if you promise to stay conscious
I will try and do the same
Well we might die from medication
But we sure killed all the pain
But what was normal in the evening
By the morning seems insane
And I’m not sure what the trouble was
That started all of this
The reasons all have run away
But the feeling never did
It’s not something I would recommend
But it is one way to live
‘Cause what is simple in the moonlight
By the morning never is
It was so simple in the moonlight
Now it’s so complicated
It was so simple in the moonlight
So simple in the moonlight
So simple in the moonlight
Finally, a song I wrote when Queen Elizabeth died. I didn’t know much about her, but I know her reign was long. And her passing marked the end of a particular era in which billions of people lived their lives. Someday we too will follow her. But for now, we're alive. We have our hopes (and trepidation) of the future. And we have our present life situation. And we hold our memories of what once was. And we carry that all with us, wherever we go.
FAREWELL
Catty corner to the comic book store’s a little
Late night bazaar
Four chicks at the laundromat
But only one of them is spoken for
The German popcorn lady with two bad legs
She tells you, "Ride the Zipper, it's only five dollars"
And it won't be 1985 forever
Farewell on down the shore
How the seas have swirled
Farewell, fair maiden
To the glory of our girl
Farewell to the queen of the world
All the nurses from the mountain at the diner shoutin'
"Go Nick, go Nick"
Don't quote me baby, it's not for nothin'
But the gin from the Polish muffin woman does a magic trick
It always smells like the rowhomes
Or Fran's Dairy Bar
And the t-tops of a Nissan Pulsar
Farewell on down the shore
How the seas have swirled
Farewell, fair maiden
To the glory of our girl
Farewell to the queen of the world
That’s it for now. May you sing your song with peace in your heart. And may your special spark shine through.
Take care.
-T
