Well, there seems to have been a spike in readership these last few weeks, which I attribute solely to subject matter: who doesn't want to read about weddings, especially one which unfolded in a, I daresay, unique way? I suspect I may have gotten passed around by people sharing the link with friends, which I love. The more readers, the better, says my ego.
Now I'm trying too figure out how I'm going to drive those newbies and maybe some oldbies away. Understand, it is not my intent to do that; I simply know that my usual subject matter, whatever stuck subject I can rip from my craw, is hardly everyone's cup o' Jasmine Green. What I aim for is to be thought-provoking, but I'm often taken for angry or insulting. Would that I were a good enough writer to get my intended result. Maybe when I grow up.
And, dear reader, rest assured there's almost always plenty stuck in this old craw: the fact that it's still legal for white people to kill black people (That the subject of race never once came up during the Zimmerman trial defies logic, belief, sense and sensibility--hey, that's not a bad band name, or something. A classic case of blind justice?), the fact that so many states are rushing to return abortion rights--and civil rights, that great struggle we're still fighting, what with the recent gutting of the Voting Rights Act ("The country's changed," says Injustice Clarence "Uncle" Thomas. Now there's the old Mark....)--to, oh, 1958. It feels like the last gasp of the white guys, trying to get as much stuff set up the way they (We? Truth in advertising: I'm an Old White Guy) like it as they can before we're totally overrun by brown, black, and yellow. And then all Hell will break loose.
And speaking of Hell, how 'bout the weather this summer, huh? Steamin'! 'Cause it's not the heat, it's the humidity, right? Well, there's certainly a lot of truth in that old saw. So what I'm wantin' to talk about this week is the heat, or rather our increasingly desperate attempts to escape it, with Air Conditioning. Probably even you regular readers can't believe that I'm gonna argue against the evils of AC, can you?
Many of you know that I'm a big fan of The Week (remember magazines?), a great source for synopses of articles from around the world that deal with issues from, well, around the world, each week. It's My Weekly Reader for (nominal, at least) grownups. Each week there's a 350 word or so Op-ed piece from one of the mag's editors. I generally agree with what they say in those brief bits, but in the July 26 edition William Falk has a piece extolling the air conditioner as humanity's greatest invention.
Okay, I'll cop to it: during a wicked hot spell, when I walk into a bank or grocery store or some other place that has AC blasting all day, I dig it. It's a great relief, and makes us all want to linger a little longer there, soaking up all of that coolth before venturing back out into the inferno. And speaking of Infernos, does anyone recall Kevin Smith's film Dogma (the one where Alanis Morrisette plays God)? In that film, the Devil, or his emissary, enters the world through central air.
And I know that there are folks who absolutely need air conditioning, due to various medical conditions; one of my best friends is one of those, as is my soon-to-be 89 year-old aunt. But for most of us? Let's quit the addiction, before it's too late. Because, as even Falk acknowledges, at least sidelong, our reliance on AC sets up a loop of dependency and puts us further along the path to total global catastrophe, a path we're becoming more familiar with, realize it or not (how're the floods, fires, and/or severe storms in your area this summer?). As with auto emissions, demand for new unnecessary goods, rampant consumerism in general, we're just now seeing the beginnings in the most populated countries on Earth, China and India. As they become more affluent (certainly a relative term), they want the same stuff we have--and why not? If we can escape the heat, why shouldn't they be able to?
The thing is, of course, that this sets up a self-perpetuating vicious cycle: the hotter the climate gets, the more we want escape through air conditioning. But the more we buy and use those machines, the more we demand electricity to run them. So we build more electricity-producing facilities, most of which now are coal-fired, and coal is the dirtiest fuel we have--so far. So those plants pump more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, making the planet hotter, increasing the demand for more AC, thus increasing the demand for electricity, and around and around we go.
Interestingly, the same week that Falk's piece ran in The Week, the Sunday Boston Globe (remember newspapers?) had, as the lead story in its "Ideas" section, a piece that examined alternatives to AC. "What can they be?," I can hear you excitedly asking. Well, as in the old days: build smarter (better insulation, open and close windows as needed and effective), site the house to take advantage of shade and prevailing breezes, plant trees that shade your house, wear clothes that make you feel cooler (not talking haute couture, here), don't try to live where most humans aren't supposed to live, and adapt to it, rather than trying to control it. Hang out on your porches in the evenings, chat with your neighbors; don't work in the heat of the day: manana, man. Likelihood of any of this happening, before we absolutely have to do it because of our own actions and stupidity: ZERO.
Anyway, again, please try to remember that I'm not trying to alienate you, but to provoke thought and maybe even discussion. It may be an empty exercise, but we hafta do something to try to alter our apparent fate, don't we?
So, the playlist:
I Love Air Conditioning NRBQ
Humidity Built The Snowman John Prine
Turning Into Randolph Scott (Humid Child) Leo Kottke
As Cool As I Am Dar Williams
Be Cool Joni Mitchell
Bootie Cooler Shuggie Otis
But I Was Cool Karrin Allyson
Can't Be Cool Claudia Schmidt
Cool Blue Stole My Heart Joan Armatrading
Cool Blue Reason Cake
Cool Down Boy Garland Jeffreys
Cool Blues Grant Green
Cool Dry Place Traveling Wilburys
Cool Eyes Horace Silver
Cool Jerk The Capitols
Cool Paradise Ben Sidran
Cool River Maria Muldaur
Mr. Cool The Crusaders
Coolsville Rickie Lee Jones
Cooltide John Martyn
Everything Is Cool John Prine
On The Cool Side Ben Sidran
One Cool Remove Greg Brown
Mr. Cool The Crusaders
Colder Than The Mexican Snow Dirk Hamilton
Cold Sonia Dada
Cold Cold Ground Tom Waits
Cold, Cold, Cold Little Feat
Hot Hot Hot Buster Poindexter
Hot House Emily Remler
Long Hot Summer Days John Hartford
As usual: Tuesday, Noon til Two, 100.1 FM, wool.fm. C'mon along. And come see me at the Wool fundraising Block Party, Saturday, Aug. 17, from 6-11, at The Waypoint Center in Bellows Falls, VT. I'll be tending bar, so if you treat me right, I'll treat you right. Quid Pro Freakin' Quo, baby.
...Find Yerself Another Planet.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Generational Continuum
GENERATIONAL
CONTINUUM:
TO OUR CHILDREN
Before we were we, we were not-we, and so, you see, you
could not be.
Before we were we, we were two I’s: watching the world, looking for each other,
and waiting for you.
When we became we, we made you you: wee.
As you became eversomuch more you, not wee, you looked with
your I for another I
Looking for its own other I, to form a we.
I’s met, and I’s locked: whee!
I am we, as you are we, as they are we, and we are, after
all, together.
Nothingness to beingness,
Beingness to somethingness,
Oneness to we-ness to oneness.
So has it been, and so may it always be.
You Can't Pick 'Em...
THE WEDDING, part deux:
So, it happened: Sam and Carolyn got married on Saturday; everything went off just as planned, without a hitch (well, they "got hitched," but let's stick to the original cliche).
Not. (Do the hep kids still use that term? 'Cause I sure want to be hep.) In fact, the hitches failed, and that led to all of the turmoil.
The ceremony was to be held at the home of Carolyn's parents, Mike and Betty. She and Sam and her family spent hours uncounted, and mucho dinero, decorating and preparing the grounds. Late last week, the chairs were set up on the lawn, and the tent erected--one of those (what has become) classic wedding tents, three spires, roll-down sides (in case of inclement weather--hoo boy!), staked where possible, ratchet-strapped to 400 lb. blocks of concrete where necessary. The rehearsal was Friday evening, and there were two options: Option One was to have the ceremony on the lawn, guests seated in the aforementioned chairs, then the reception under the tent. Option Two was to have both ceremony and reception under the tent, if it rained, which the forecast said was not unlikely. Rehearsal went off without a hitch, and we repaired to Popolo for a rehearsal dinner that couldn't be beat (thanks, Arlo--and Popolo).
At around 11 PM, Option Three elbowed its way into the mix. A storm cell of very short duration and small area, but enormous force, passed directly over the intended wedding site. Those 400 lb. blocks of concrete were upended and dragged 30 feet across the yard; the tent was reduced to a postmodern sculpture of twisted metal and ragbag remnant fabric. One corner of the tent came within inches of smashing through the master bedroom window, on the second floor of the house. The most amazing thing, and best indicator of the the incredibly compressed nature of the storm: of the 130 chairs set up 75 feet from the tent, three (3!) were blown over.
Fortunately, Carolyn's family own Pinnacleview Equipment, a Kubota tractor dealership, with a large showroom. So at 6:30 Saturday morning, with the wedding scheduled for 4:30 that afternoon, the calls went out: the whole showroom had to be stripped to the walls, display equipment moved out, and tables, chairs, flowers, lanterns, arbor, and dancefloor moved in and set up. By 7:30 the place was filled with people working, including the whole wedding party, many of whom had had a GREAT DEAL of fun the previous evening at the dinner; the floor was cleared; soon, walls were denuded of their commerciality. Tables got set up, decorations hung, flowers arranged, bar put in place, dance floor laid (I know of a great deal on 300 sf of Clicklock laminate flooring; call Mark at...); in short, the place had been transformed from a farm-and-garden implement showroom into a reception hall, virtually seamlessly. I'm sure there are tons o' photos on YourFace or BookTube or TwitsRhere, or somewhere.
The wedding was beautiful, the reception a blast. The place cleared out about midnight.
When I got back down there this morning at about 9 to help with cleanup and the Return Of The Showroom, the work was already 80% complete: tables and linens were dismantled, folded, put into a trailer; the dancefloor had been disassembled and boxed up, vacuuming was underway. By 10:30, the place was looking an awful lot like a commercial space again, pretty much ready for business Monday morning. And this was all done by Carolyn's family, me, a little (and I'm sort of family, now) and my good friend Erik the Plumber (rather than a Viking sword, he wields a plunger). Erik, with whom I disagree at least 187% politically, had absolutely no stake in any of this except his friendship and loyalty to Sam and me; he's just one of those people, of whom I have many in my life, and I certainly hope you do too, who, when the chips are down, is there to help, no questions asked (Gary Smith is another; he lives at the end of the same road that Carolyn's folks live on; on his way to work Saturday AM, as he drove past the house and idly glanced up to see the wrecked tents, he immediately called me to say "What can I do?").
I found the whole experience quite amazing, somehow moving (pun maybe intended), and inspiring. I know, I know, on the grand scale--tsunamis, earthquakes, floods, bombings,--this event was less than nothing. And yet it shows the importance of community, of family, of people pulling together to make okay that which appears not to be so. In Boston this spring, a couple of people showed the worst side of humanity, blowing up totally innocent people and creating horrible chaos; and yet many many more people in that event ran toward the explosions, not away, intent not on saving themselves but on seeing how they might help others. We are linked, and we need each other. You did not build that body. As a species, we may not be totally hopeless, after all.
This week's show, then, is made up of stuff I could find which relates: blowin' away, family, help, maybe a little resignation. Here are the songs from which I'll be choosing:
Salt Of The Earth Rolling Stones
Family Dar Williams
Family Pat Metheny
Family Affair Sly & The Family Stone
Family Affair Bobby Hutcherson
Family Man Fleetwood Mac
Family Man James Taylor
The Family Of Man Three Dog Night
My Family Joan Armatrading
Ode To My Family The Cranberries
We Are Family Sister Sledge
Do For The Others Stephen Stills
We Are Not Helpless Stephen Stills
With You There To Help Me Jethro Tull
Oh Well, Part 1 Fleetwood Mac
Any Way The Wind Blows J.J. Cale/Eric Clapton
Blow Away George Harrison
Blow On, Chilly Wind Jesse Winchester
Blow Wind Blow Eric Clapton
Blowin' Away Laura Nyro
I'm Blowin' Away Bonnie Raitt
Help Is On The Way Subdudes
Help Me Joni Mitchell
Help Me Sonny Boy Williamson
Help Me Van Morrison
Help Me Make It Through This Funky Day Greg Brown
Help Me Now Chris Smither
Help On The Way/Slip Knot! Grateful Dead
Help Yourself Joan Armatrading
Help! Fabs
With A Little Help From My Friends Joe Cocker
Hope you'll join me, Tuesday Noon til Two, 100.1 FM, wool.fm on yer computer.
Oh yeah--in the continuing self-aggrandizement department, I'm also gonna post a little thing I wrote and spoke at the wedding.
...but you can still get lucky.
So, it happened: Sam and Carolyn got married on Saturday; everything went off just as planned, without a hitch (well, they "got hitched," but let's stick to the original cliche).
Not. (Do the hep kids still use that term? 'Cause I sure want to be hep.) In fact, the hitches failed, and that led to all of the turmoil.
The ceremony was to be held at the home of Carolyn's parents, Mike and Betty. She and Sam and her family spent hours uncounted, and mucho dinero, decorating and preparing the grounds. Late last week, the chairs were set up on the lawn, and the tent erected--one of those (what has become) classic wedding tents, three spires, roll-down sides (in case of inclement weather--hoo boy!), staked where possible, ratchet-strapped to 400 lb. blocks of concrete where necessary. The rehearsal was Friday evening, and there were two options: Option One was to have the ceremony on the lawn, guests seated in the aforementioned chairs, then the reception under the tent. Option Two was to have both ceremony and reception under the tent, if it rained, which the forecast said was not unlikely. Rehearsal went off without a hitch, and we repaired to Popolo for a rehearsal dinner that couldn't be beat (thanks, Arlo--and Popolo).
At around 11 PM, Option Three elbowed its way into the mix. A storm cell of very short duration and small area, but enormous force, passed directly over the intended wedding site. Those 400 lb. blocks of concrete were upended and dragged 30 feet across the yard; the tent was reduced to a postmodern sculpture of twisted metal and ragbag remnant fabric. One corner of the tent came within inches of smashing through the master bedroom window, on the second floor of the house. The most amazing thing, and best indicator of the the incredibly compressed nature of the storm: of the 130 chairs set up 75 feet from the tent, three (3!) were blown over.
Fortunately, Carolyn's family own Pinnacleview Equipment, a Kubota tractor dealership, with a large showroom. So at 6:30 Saturday morning, with the wedding scheduled for 4:30 that afternoon, the calls went out: the whole showroom had to be stripped to the walls, display equipment moved out, and tables, chairs, flowers, lanterns, arbor, and dancefloor moved in and set up. By 7:30 the place was filled with people working, including the whole wedding party, many of whom had had a GREAT DEAL of fun the previous evening at the dinner; the floor was cleared; soon, walls were denuded of their commerciality. Tables got set up, decorations hung, flowers arranged, bar put in place, dance floor laid (I know of a great deal on 300 sf of Clicklock laminate flooring; call Mark at...); in short, the place had been transformed from a farm-and-garden implement showroom into a reception hall, virtually seamlessly. I'm sure there are tons o' photos on YourFace or BookTube or TwitsRhere, or somewhere.
The wedding was beautiful, the reception a blast. The place cleared out about midnight.
When I got back down there this morning at about 9 to help with cleanup and the Return Of The Showroom, the work was already 80% complete: tables and linens were dismantled, folded, put into a trailer; the dancefloor had been disassembled and boxed up, vacuuming was underway. By 10:30, the place was looking an awful lot like a commercial space again, pretty much ready for business Monday morning. And this was all done by Carolyn's family, me, a little (and I'm sort of family, now) and my good friend Erik the Plumber (rather than a Viking sword, he wields a plunger). Erik, with whom I disagree at least 187% politically, had absolutely no stake in any of this except his friendship and loyalty to Sam and me; he's just one of those people, of whom I have many in my life, and I certainly hope you do too, who, when the chips are down, is there to help, no questions asked (Gary Smith is another; he lives at the end of the same road that Carolyn's folks live on; on his way to work Saturday AM, as he drove past the house and idly glanced up to see the wrecked tents, he immediately called me to say "What can I do?").
I found the whole experience quite amazing, somehow moving (pun maybe intended), and inspiring. I know, I know, on the grand scale--tsunamis, earthquakes, floods, bombings,--this event was less than nothing. And yet it shows the importance of community, of family, of people pulling together to make okay that which appears not to be so. In Boston this spring, a couple of people showed the worst side of humanity, blowing up totally innocent people and creating horrible chaos; and yet many many more people in that event ran toward the explosions, not away, intent not on saving themselves but on seeing how they might help others. We are linked, and we need each other. You did not build that body. As a species, we may not be totally hopeless, after all.
This week's show, then, is made up of stuff I could find which relates: blowin' away, family, help, maybe a little resignation. Here are the songs from which I'll be choosing:
Salt Of The Earth Rolling Stones
Family Dar Williams
Family Pat Metheny
Family Affair Sly & The Family Stone
Family Affair Bobby Hutcherson
Family Man Fleetwood Mac
Family Man James Taylor
The Family Of Man Three Dog Night
My Family Joan Armatrading
Ode To My Family The Cranberries
We Are Family Sister Sledge
Do For The Others Stephen Stills
We Are Not Helpless Stephen Stills
With You There To Help Me Jethro Tull
Oh Well, Part 1 Fleetwood Mac
Any Way The Wind Blows J.J. Cale/Eric Clapton
Blow Away George Harrison
Blow On, Chilly Wind Jesse Winchester
Blow Wind Blow Eric Clapton
Blowin' Away Laura Nyro
I'm Blowin' Away Bonnie Raitt
Help Is On The Way Subdudes
Help Me Joni Mitchell
Help Me Sonny Boy Williamson
Help Me Van Morrison
Help Me Make It Through This Funky Day Greg Brown
Help Me Now Chris Smither
Help On The Way/Slip Knot! Grateful Dead
Help Yourself Joan Armatrading
Help! Fabs
With A Little Help From My Friends Joe Cocker
Hope you'll join me, Tuesday Noon til Two, 100.1 FM, wool.fm on yer computer.
Oh yeah--in the continuing self-aggrandizement department, I'm also gonna post a little thing I wrote and spoke at the wedding.
...but you can still get lucky.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
It's A Great Institution...
So this Saturday, July 20, my son Sam gets married. As those of you who have gone through this already--the marriage of a son or daughter--know, it's difficult to realize that those babies we bounced on our knees, snuggled with at bedtime, carried on our shoulders, are old enough to be taking this step. Obla-di, obla-da....
As any of you who know me or read me know by now, it's very difficult for me to write sweet and heartfelt sentimental stuff. Alice, for instance, thinks I'm the most cynical creature to have walked upright. I express it that way, although my knuckles are rubbed raw from dragging. But I want to send the newlyweds off with all best wishes and optimism.
Sam and Carolyn have been together for 7 years (at the ripe ages of 23 and almost-22), and have owned a house together for 2 1/2 years. At that age I still needed help getting dressed--and some of you will claim this is still true. They have been clear about their path, set forth on it, and bless 'em for that. They're sweet, loving, smart and capable, which certainly gives them a pretty damn good start.
In being even peripherally involved in The Great American Wedding Machine, though, all I can do is shake my head and say "whew!" Like all things in American--probably global, though I think we lead--society, costs and expectations have soared beyond belief and control. In 1960, just to pick a year, the average cost of a wedding was $1,000; according to the most recent stats, that has increased 2400 percent. Not, of course, $2400, but 2400 times-- and I suspect that's somewhat conservative. In fairness, though, and for comparison, in 1960, bread cost $.25 a loaf, stamps were $.04, milk $.49/gal, gas $.31/gal (!), and a new house cost $16,500. No wonder all of us old folks remember the old days so fondly. And by the way, this perspective is all by way of making (particularly) Carolyn's folks feel slightly better--hope it works!
So I'm playing wedding-related songs this week, again trying to focus on the positive (with some tongue-in-cheek, all-in-good-fun (another sale on hyphens this week) songs thrown in ("Married Man's A Fool," "Wah She Go Do?," "Better Off Without A Wife," for instance), but it turns out that, at least in my collection, musicians may not have the most favorable view of marriage. Dylan and Arlo--one surprising, one not--are among the exceptions. So here's the playlist:
Love and Marriage Frank Sinatra
Marriage Chant Greg Brown
The marriage Billy Bragg
Marry Song Band of Horses
Marry You Eric Clapton & B.B King
Plan To Marry Lucinda Williams
Let's Get Married Al Green
Married Man's A Fool Ry Cooder
I Married An Angel Gerry Mulligan/Chet Baker
Single Girl, Married Girl Levon Helm
We Got Married Paul McCartney
When Will We Be Married? The Waterboys
Wah She Go Do? Bonnie Raitt
Better Off Without A Wife Tom Waits
That's The Way I've Always Heard It Should Be Carly Simon
My Wife Ben Sidran
When I Say Wife Jonathan Richman
Something Borrowed, Something Blue Tommy Flanagan
An Acceptable Level Of Ecstasy (The Wedding Song) Lyle Lovett
The Wedding Abdullah Ibrahim
The Hawaiian Wedding Song New Hawaiian Band
Here Comes The Bride Wedding Music Experts
Wedding Bell Blues Laura Nyro
January Wedding Avett Brothers
Wedding Bell Beach House
Wedding Bells/Let's Turn Back The Years John Prine/Lucinda Williams
Wedding Rain Liz Story
A Wedding In Cherokee County Randy Newman
White Wedding Billy Idol
Wedding Waltz Brian Melvin/Jaco Pastorius
Wedding Song Bob Dylan
Wedding Song Arlo Guthrie
Wedding Song Anais Mitchell/Justin Vernon
The Wedding Song The Ahs
I hope you can join me in honoring my son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law (there's those bargain hyphens again) this Tuesday, July 16, from Noon till two on wool.fm or 100.1 FM.
...finish Groucho's quote here. Oh, of course you know it!
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Nobody's Prefect...,
I've learned a few things today. I expect that'll surprise some of you, who find me ineducable.
I thought it was Hugh Romney, better known as "Wavy Gravy"--and you should check out the story of the origin of that name, and his whole history--who came up with the slogan "Nobody for President." Turns out it dates from at least 1932, where it appeared in, of all places, a Betty Boop cartoon. There really is nothing new under the sun.
There is also, apparently, a fairly organized (website and everything) and ongoing "Vote for Nobody" campaign, which premise I fully support and endorse. It may seem strange that I'd write about election stuff at this time of year, but, as we all know, there's no longer any such thing as an offseason in politics. The most recent polling I've heard of suggests that the electorate's confidence in Congress is hovering somewhere around 10%. Nine out of ten citizens have no confidence in their elected representatives.
Yet we continue to vote for people to fill these offices. Is it actually that people are okay with their reps, but no one else's-- "my Rep is red hot, your Rep ain't doodley squat" (All apologies to Billy Lee Riley and His Little Green Men)? We've all been told that in order to be good Citizens Of The Republic, in order to make this Grand Experiment keep(?) working, we need to trot ourselves off to vote each time there's an election. Where's that gotten us? Stuck, that's where, on the Tarbaby of partisanship.
What's getting to me about this issue right now is the whole student loan fiasco. Full disclosure: yes, I have two kids who will be affected by the apparently imminent doubling of interest rates. But Jesus, does everything have to be about brinkpersonship (PC Liberal, here), about who'll blink first, about only doing it my way, or not at all? I don't think that even the House wants this raise to happen, it's just that they, and hence we, are totally paralyzed by partisan gridlock.
So why not, next election, vote for Nobody? Would that get their attention? Nah, and Nobody knows why. Remember: Nobody knows you when you're down and out, Nobody hears anything we say, Nobody tells the truth, Nobody knows everything, Nobody makes a better apple pie than Mom, and Nobody expects much of you.
Lots o' "Nobody" songs this week, then, on my show, which will go, nearly, back to its normal time, Tuesday from noon till two. It's probably going to be more like 2:30 since, although I tried to keep the playlist down, to "murder my darlings" (not Faulkner, but Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, of course [!]), I'm going to play everything that made the cut. And here they are, for those of you keeping score at home:
Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out Derek and the Dominoes
Nobody Number One Over the Rhine
Nobody Really Knows Van Morrison
Nobody Loves Me The BoDeans
Nobody Knows the Way I Feel this Morning Aretha Franklin
Nobody Knows the Trouble I Have Seen Mahalia Jackson
Nobody Knows My Name Rickie Lee Jones
Nobody Knows Me Lyle Lovett
Nobody Knows Paul McCartney
Nobody Knows Allman Bros.
Ain't Hurtin' Nobody John Prine
Ain't Nobody's Business Taj Mahal
Nobody Crazy Horse
Nobody Tom Waits
Nobody Nina Simone
Nobody Paul Simon
Nobody The Replacements
Nobody's David Bromberg
Nobody's Fool Ben Sidran
Nobody But Me The Human Beinz
Nobody's Fool/El Tonto De Nadie, Regressa Poco
Nobody But You James Taylor
Nobody Does It Better Carly Simon
Nobody Cares Ray Charles
Nobody Cares John Mayall
I Can't See Nobody Bee Gees
I hope you can join me, at 100.1 FM, wool.fm on the interwebs. And please, support Community Radio by becoming a member! Just go to the website (wool.fm) to find out how. We all gotta pay our dues, y'know.
...or perfect.
I thought it was Hugh Romney, better known as "Wavy Gravy"--and you should check out the story of the origin of that name, and his whole history--who came up with the slogan "Nobody for President." Turns out it dates from at least 1932, where it appeared in, of all places, a Betty Boop cartoon. There really is nothing new under the sun.
There is also, apparently, a fairly organized (website and everything) and ongoing "Vote for Nobody" campaign, which premise I fully support and endorse. It may seem strange that I'd write about election stuff at this time of year, but, as we all know, there's no longer any such thing as an offseason in politics. The most recent polling I've heard of suggests that the electorate's confidence in Congress is hovering somewhere around 10%. Nine out of ten citizens have no confidence in their elected representatives.
Yet we continue to vote for people to fill these offices. Is it actually that people are okay with their reps, but no one else's-- "my Rep is red hot, your Rep ain't doodley squat" (All apologies to Billy Lee Riley and His Little Green Men)? We've all been told that in order to be good Citizens Of The Republic, in order to make this Grand Experiment keep(?) working, we need to trot ourselves off to vote each time there's an election. Where's that gotten us? Stuck, that's where, on the Tarbaby of partisanship.
What's getting to me about this issue right now is the whole student loan fiasco. Full disclosure: yes, I have two kids who will be affected by the apparently imminent doubling of interest rates. But Jesus, does everything have to be about brinkpersonship (PC Liberal, here), about who'll blink first, about only doing it my way, or not at all? I don't think that even the House wants this raise to happen, it's just that they, and hence we, are totally paralyzed by partisan gridlock.
So why not, next election, vote for Nobody? Would that get their attention? Nah, and Nobody knows why. Remember: Nobody knows you when you're down and out, Nobody hears anything we say, Nobody tells the truth, Nobody knows everything, Nobody makes a better apple pie than Mom, and Nobody expects much of you.
Lots o' "Nobody" songs this week, then, on my show, which will go, nearly, back to its normal time, Tuesday from noon till two. It's probably going to be more like 2:30 since, although I tried to keep the playlist down, to "murder my darlings" (not Faulkner, but Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, of course [!]), I'm going to play everything that made the cut. And here they are, for those of you keeping score at home:
Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out Derek and the Dominoes
Nobody Number One Over the Rhine
Nobody Really Knows Van Morrison
Nobody Loves Me The BoDeans
Nobody Knows the Way I Feel this Morning Aretha Franklin
Nobody Knows the Trouble I Have Seen Mahalia Jackson
Nobody Knows My Name Rickie Lee Jones
Nobody Knows Me Lyle Lovett
Nobody Knows Paul McCartney
Nobody Knows Allman Bros.
Ain't Hurtin' Nobody John Prine
Ain't Nobody's Business Taj Mahal
Nobody Crazy Horse
Nobody Tom Waits
Nobody Nina Simone
Nobody Paul Simon
Nobody The Replacements
Nobody's David Bromberg
Nobody's Fool Ben Sidran
Nobody But Me The Human Beinz
Nobody's Fool/El Tonto De Nadie, Regressa Poco
Nobody But You James Taylor
Nobody Does It Better Carly Simon
Nobody Cares Ray Charles
Nobody Cares John Mayall
I Can't See Nobody Bee Gees
I hope you can join me, at 100.1 FM, wool.fm on the interwebs. And please, support Community Radio by becoming a member! Just go to the website (wool.fm) to find out how. We all gotta pay our dues, y'know.
...or perfect.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
If My Thought Dreams Could Be Seen...
So, okay, I came of age (and what the hell does that phrase mean, really? I came of lots of ages in the '60s. I'm about to come of the age of 60, which is, ugh, a whole nother topic) during incredibly turbulent times in this country: the Civil Rights movement and the Vietnam War and their concomitant domestic violence and protests; the nascent (again) Women's Movement; Watergate; assassinations, successful and attempted, on various leaders and national figures. Crazy shit was happening every day, it seemed, in the streets and in the back rooms of power: illegal wiretaps, smear campaigns, campaign-headquarter break-ins, residual McCarthyism. Conspiracy theories abounded, because conspiracies abounded; even paranoids have real enemies. I remember conversations with my father about the government and its powers, its lack of transparency (now there's an uncharacteristic, for me, use of understatement), its often unfathomable actions. My father's firmly held, often expressed, and, thus, the de facto "correct" response would be, "Mark, don't you think that the people in power know things we don't, and are acting on that knowledge in our best interests?"
Well, I was sure that the first part of that was true: they sure as hell knew stuff the average citizen didn't. The best interests they were acting on, though, were theirs: consolidating their power, or at least attempting to, fattening their (and their cronies') bank accounts, trying their best to keep the status at least quo, if not quo-ier and quo-ier. Simply because they were in power and privy to secret info, we were taught to believe that they'd always do the right thing.
And now there's much hand-wringing, wailing, tearing-out of hair, gnashing of teeth in the press and among that small segment of the populace that can briefly turn its "attention" from Hoarders or Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo, regarding the revelations that the National Security Agency has been mining data from phones, computers, any electronic means or devices available in order to "keep us safe" ( cf. George Orwell: "War is Peace," "thoughtcrime," "Ministry of Truth"). These actions are happening on such a scale that even Richard M. Nixon (and, let's admit it, though it may shock us: if the Nixon of the '60s were running for President today, he'd likely be labeled the most liberal candidate in the race, for either party. Plus ca change... my ass), were he not currently in Hell, would blanch, and maybe depend on the kindness of strangers (a little Tennessee Williams humor, there). The issue, as it always is with governments or people in power, is: what are they doing with the information they have, and whose interests are they serving? And, even if they are currently serving the greater good, how long will it be until they're not?
The argument that the powers-that-be make is that, through their Herculean efforts (and the cooperation, willing or coerced, of lots of communication networks) we have been kept safe from terrorist attacks and other hideous threats. How can we argue with that? We don't know what any of these events might have been, so we depend on the Ministry of Truth to assure us that their actions have been right and good and even heroic; "Don't you think that the the government has information..."? We take it on faith that it's all for our protection, that "Well, hell, I haven't made any phone calls to or Friended anyone from Iran, so it's all good."
Of course, to be so shocked and outraged that our "private lives" are being compromised, at this late date in the Age of (Electronic) Information is either disingenuous, incredibly ingenuous, or just plain stupid. If you have owned a cellphone, or computer, or GPS, paid taxes, registered a motor vehicle, etc., etc., do you really think you've been able to maintain your anonymity, let alone your autonomy? I heard David Ignatius, associate editor and columnist for The Washington Post, and author of 8 spy novels, speak at Chautauqua a few years ago. This is a guy who knows people from many, many countries' intelligence services, governmental agencies, rubs elbows with high muckety-mucks frequently and is, in fact, privy to information the average citizen isn't. He said that he has witnessed, on many occasions, participants in high-level and/or secretive meetings who, upon being asked to turn off their cellphones or electronic devices, are not content to simply do that: they remove the batteries. If you're tuned in, even if you're turned off, someone knows exactly where you are, and may drop in.
Is all of this data mining (and don't you just love that term? I visualize the Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy, Doc and the rest shouldering their tools, singing "Heigh Ho," and heading down into those mines for another day. Wonder what the mortality rate is among data miners versus oh, say, Chinese coal miners?), spying, protection--call it what you will-- okay, is it in our best interests or counter to them? We're gonna find out someday. And I think, even if right now those in power are doing these things for the right reasons, it's a pretty safe bet that they won't always be doing so. There was a young, idealistic Kenya-born Muslim socialist once, who I voted for twice and am sorely disappointed in, who vowed to make government transparent, to do away with most of the evils put in place under BushCheney, and who has in fact made many of them worse. Just what is going on out there?
Anyway, this week's show plays off of all of this: privacy, aloneness, spying, hiding, etc. And remember, it's the song title that really drives its selection: finding songs with lyrics to reflect the theme would be nearly impossible. But, for instance, "If You Don't Know Me By Now?" That's friggin' hilarious, right? It'll all happen on Tuesday from 11AM until sometime, 2 or 3 or so, in the PM, on 100.1 FM or wool.fm. I hope you can join me, and fervently implore you again to renew your memberships or to, finally, become members. We need you. And here comes this week's set list:
"...they'd probably put my head in a guillotine..."
All right, so I've put all of this out there, right on my computer. I'm taking a risk here. If I should suddenly disap
Well, I was sure that the first part of that was true: they sure as hell knew stuff the average citizen didn't. The best interests they were acting on, though, were theirs: consolidating their power, or at least attempting to, fattening their (and their cronies') bank accounts, trying their best to keep the status at least quo, if not quo-ier and quo-ier. Simply because they were in power and privy to secret info, we were taught to believe that they'd always do the right thing.
And now there's much hand-wringing, wailing, tearing-out of hair, gnashing of teeth in the press and among that small segment of the populace that can briefly turn its "attention" from Hoarders or Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo, regarding the revelations that the National Security Agency has been mining data from phones, computers, any electronic means or devices available in order to "keep us safe" ( cf. George Orwell: "War is Peace," "thoughtcrime," "Ministry of Truth"). These actions are happening on such a scale that even Richard M. Nixon (and, let's admit it, though it may shock us: if the Nixon of the '60s were running for President today, he'd likely be labeled the most liberal candidate in the race, for either party. Plus ca change... my ass), were he not currently in Hell, would blanch, and maybe depend on the kindness of strangers (a little Tennessee Williams humor, there). The issue, as it always is with governments or people in power, is: what are they doing with the information they have, and whose interests are they serving? And, even if they are currently serving the greater good, how long will it be until they're not?
The argument that the powers-that-be make is that, through their Herculean efforts (and the cooperation, willing or coerced, of lots of communication networks) we have been kept safe from terrorist attacks and other hideous threats. How can we argue with that? We don't know what any of these events might have been, so we depend on the Ministry of Truth to assure us that their actions have been right and good and even heroic; "Don't you think that the the government has information..."? We take it on faith that it's all for our protection, that "Well, hell, I haven't made any phone calls to or Friended anyone from Iran, so it's all good."
Of course, to be so shocked and outraged that our "private lives" are being compromised, at this late date in the Age of (Electronic) Information is either disingenuous, incredibly ingenuous, or just plain stupid. If you have owned a cellphone, or computer, or GPS, paid taxes, registered a motor vehicle, etc., etc., do you really think you've been able to maintain your anonymity, let alone your autonomy? I heard David Ignatius, associate editor and columnist for The Washington Post, and author of 8 spy novels, speak at Chautauqua a few years ago. This is a guy who knows people from many, many countries' intelligence services, governmental agencies, rubs elbows with high muckety-mucks frequently and is, in fact, privy to information the average citizen isn't. He said that he has witnessed, on many occasions, participants in high-level and/or secretive meetings who, upon being asked to turn off their cellphones or electronic devices, are not content to simply do that: they remove the batteries. If you're tuned in, even if you're turned off, someone knows exactly where you are, and may drop in.
Is all of this data mining (and don't you just love that term? I visualize the Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy, Doc and the rest shouldering their tools, singing "Heigh Ho," and heading down into those mines for another day. Wonder what the mortality rate is among data miners versus oh, say, Chinese coal miners?), spying, protection--call it what you will-- okay, is it in our best interests or counter to them? We're gonna find out someday. And I think, even if right now those in power are doing these things for the right reasons, it's a pretty safe bet that they won't always be doing so. There was a young, idealistic Kenya-born Muslim socialist once, who I voted for twice and am sorely disappointed in, who vowed to make government transparent, to do away with most of the evils put in place under BushCheney, and who has in fact made many of them worse. Just what is going on out there?
Anyway, this week's show plays off of all of this: privacy, aloneness, spying, hiding, etc. And remember, it's the song title that really drives its selection: finding songs with lyrics to reflect the theme would be nearly impossible. But, for instance, "If You Don't Know Me By Now?" That's friggin' hilarious, right? It'll all happen on Tuesday from 11AM until sometime, 2 or 3 or so, in the PM, on 100.1 FM or wool.fm. I hope you can join me, and fervently implore you again to renew your memberships or to, finally, become members. We need you. And here comes this week's set list:
Name Artist
Big Brother Stevie Wonder
Big Brother Mose Allison
Subterranean Homesick Blues Bob Dylan
Private Eyes Hall & Oates
Private Conversation Lyle Lovett
Private Investigations Dire Straits
Private Life The Pretenders
Private Revolution World Party
Private Universe Crowded House
(We Have) No Secrets Carly Simon
It's No Secret Jefferson Airplane
The Secret Handshake of Fate J.D. Souther
Take Me To Your Secret NRBQ
Three Views Of A Secret Jaco Pastorius Big Band
Name Artist The Spy The Doors Roam And Spy Steve Tibbetts Spy Versus Spy Grant Geissman Every Breath You Take The Police I Know John Gorka Eye In the Sky The Alan Parsons Project Just Like Greta Van Morrison Leave Me Alone Lou Reed Light Up Or Leave Me Alone Traffic You Can't Hide NRBQ Take Your Hands Out Of My Pocket (Live) Van Morrison Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey The Beatles Alone Again Or Love "Alone, Alone" Boz Scaggs
Name Artist
Who Are You Tom Waits
Who Are You (Single Edit Version) The Who
America Will Eat You Greg Brown
You Can't Get Away Kenny Burrell
You Don't Know Me Richard Manuel
It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) Bob Dylan
This Is Not America Charlie Haden
Watch Your Step Elvis Costello
Watch Out Fleetwood Mac
Someone To Watch Over Me Willie Nelson
You Better Run The Rascals
Make You Crazy Brett Dennen Feat. Femi Kuti
What Are Their Names David Crosby
If You Don't Know Me By Now Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes
"...they'd probably put my head in a guillotine..."
All right, so I've put all of this out there, right on my computer. I'm taking a risk here. If I should suddenly disap
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