I can’t yet say that music has carried me through the corona crisis but I know that it will. For one thing, it hasn’t really been all that long since we’ve started taking this seriously and for all we know there may still be a very long way to go. Secondly, I’d be lying if I said that the crisis has altered my own life all that much other than causing me concern for others. I’ve already been confined to my home office for the last nine years so I’ve already managed to take the distractions that come with working in residence in stride, no adjustment needed. I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping myself busy too, or at least keeping up the appearance of being busy. Frankly, calling it a home office is a bit of a stretch, that would imply enough work and steady income when the reality has been something less. It is an office and it is a studio and it is a listening room too, but mostly, it’s a lonely place where dreams or either born or go to die. At least now, It’s a little less lonely. With Jenny working from home I find myself grateful to have her near even if she is somewhat unapproachable. While I skitter and sidle through the work day, she is an uninterruptable force, nose to the grindstone and never shirking. I suppose that is what comes from too much work and not enough hours in the day. Still it is pleasant to have her physically nearby, even if her mind is occupied elsewhere. I guess we will see how we both feel about it in a month or two. Chances are, the arrangement will have soured.
So while it may be too soon to declare that music has lifted me from the COVID-19 doldrums it would not be overreaching to suggest that music has been my saving grace through a lifetime of challenges. After all, what is life if not one big challenge? Music has always rescued and soothed me in the past and I am confident it will do so again under present circumstances. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’d do without it. Medication, I suppose.
Like most of us I try to keep the hysteria at arm’s length and make due with what’s available. I like to believe that after 54 years of living, there is not much that life can throw at me that truly scares me. That being said, I’ve had it pretty soft and easy. My health has been good, as has been the health of my loved ones. The wars of my lifetime, other than Vietnam which I was obviously too young to be part of, have been fought by volunteers. The true challenges faced have not been unsurmountable and in turn have almost always provided positive enlightenment. Sure, I’ve had plenty of dreams dashed but I’ve also had plenty come true. You win some and you lose some. But this pandemic business is unlike anything any of us have experienced before. The oldest among us might remember polio or tuberculosis or smallpox as being something to fear but no other health crisis in their lifetimes ever matched the global pandemonium of this coronavirus. If you consider World War II a health crisis (and certainly death was random and rampant enough to warrant that consideration) then maybe those still around to remember that conflict might find some dreadful reminiscence in our current state of affairs. While coronavirus is nowhere near as fearsome and devastating as say, incendiary bombs dropped haphazardly on sleeping cities, there remains nevertheless plenty to fear from an unseen, unheard and untouchable enemy.
Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, there is a natural measure of fear that is unavoidable in extraordinary times. If you have parents or children or other loved ones then fearlessness is no longer an option. You are now charged to think beyond your own mortality and concern yourself with the lives of those around you. Disregard is unsustainable and diligence becomes obligatory. The unknown and the uncontrollable are breeders of fear and no matter how you compartmentalize it, it is still there, nagging and gnawing. And this is when I expect music to do its job.
The other night we flew the coop for our second walk of the evening. It’s funny how quickly and effortlessly we’ve taken to crossing the street to yield the sidewalk to a fellow oncoming pedestrian. Everyone outside for exercise and fresh air reacts the same way, we divert down alleys and side streets when we spy an approaching walker, repelling off each other with magnetic opposition. On our earlier walk we talked but this time out we grabbed our headphones and earbuds. Straight out of the gate the music took over and any concerns I had been carrying with me were washed clean away as my stream of consciousness surrendered to the sweet sounds. The random playlist always seems to find a way to weave a seamless narration in my head. No matter the artist or genre, no matter how jarring the juxtaposition of the tunes, the next song always seems to compliment the last. I’m sure that has something to do with my carefully cultivated selections. Every song in my library moves me on some level, they wouldn’t be included if they didn’t. Here are just six of them, in the order they were presented the other night, along with a little of what ran through my head, the good and the bad of it. None of these thoughts would have come to me otherwise, if not for the music.
Joni Mitchell, Carey:
“The wind is in from Africa,
Last night I couldn’t sleep”
Last night I couldn’t sleep, no shit Joni, so who sleeps anyway? That line, about the African wind reminds me of the film Out of Africa. I hate that movie, though I’ve never seen it. I never will see it. The girl walking with me tonight, my wife of almost thirty years, not a girl at all though I’ll never not think of her that way, maybe her last date with any man that wasn’t me, was Out of Africa, wasn’t it? The final break-up of our youth as I recall, the final testing of the waters apart from each other. I’m certain she told me she had gone on a date with some guy and they had seen Out of Africa. I really hate that movie. Somewhere tucked deep inside me still resides the petty jealousies of my childish younger self. Certain things shake them to the surface and It is then that I fully understand that acid line from Dylan’s Idiot Wind, “I can’t even touch the books you’ve read.” Jealousy is an ugly thing, even 35-year old jealousy.
“I got beach tar on my feet.”
I wonder if I’ll ever have beach tar on my feet again? When will the beaches be open? When will travel be safe again?
“Maybe I’ll go to Amsterdam or maybe I’ll go to Rome”
Or maybe I’ll never travel anywhere. I wasn’t well travelled before the pandemic, what makes me think that will change afterwards? A burning desire is not passport or pocketbook enough. How old must Joni be now? Pushing eighty I’m sure and last I heard her health was not good. Random vulnerability is so unfair. We should all have an equal fighting chance. The young and strong of today might not think it possible that Joni Mitchell once stood in the Pacific surf on a rocky coastline, naked as a baby and beautiful. In ’72 she was still new and I was newer still. Now we are both old enough to question every cough.
“But let’s not talk about fare-thee-wells now, the night is a starry dome”
I’d really rather not talk about goodbyes. Certainly not in terms of Joni Mitchell and certainly not in terms of anyone close to me. I’m outside on a crisp Spring evening, side by side with the love of my life, walking under a starry dome. What can possibly hurt me? What can be taken away that I haven’t already enjoyed more than any man deserves?
Bob Marley, Hammer:
My gosh, I had forgotten how much I love this simple song. Haven’t heard it in a while. Lyrics don’t come much sparser and more direct but it is Bob’s sweet, lilting delivery along with Rita’s backing vocals that makes this such a highly listenable favorite.
“I need a hammer – a hammer – a hammer- a hammer
to hammer dem down!
I need a rammer- a rammer – a rammer- a rammer-
To ram dem down!”
Who do I personally want to hammer down? Oh, I suppose I’d start naturally with the politicians and next work my way through talk show hosts and celebrities and on down the line to the everyday run-of-the-mill dicks, pricks and hicks. All this hammering reminds of the opening line of another Marley favorite, Trenchtown Rock which goes, “One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain”
Rush, Circumstances:
When it hits you feel no pain. Not necessarily true Bob. From the first instant I hear the grinding opening chords of Circumstances I feel a twinge of pain. No longer a stab but just a twinge. I feel that same pain now, every time I hear a Rush song playing. 2020 started with the very sad news of the loss of Neil Peart and with his loss, the loss of my sentimental favorite band. What a crappy way to start a year. What a crappy year it has become.
“A boy alone, so far from home
Endless rooftops from my window
I felt the gloom of empty rooms
On rainy afternoons”
Sure, why not a song about isolation in the mix, it is certainly appropriate for the mood and the time. A boy alone… I’ve always been a boy alone. No matter I’m surrounded with loved ones, I remain a boy alone. Alone, because there is no other person on earth who has been asked to occupy this peculiar space in my head. It’s a lonely task and it is my own. No lonelier than yours I suppose but a uniquely solitary burden all the same.
“All the same, we take our chances
Laughed at by time
Tricked by circumstances”
Who would have foreseen that we’d be taking a chance every time we go to a grocery store or a gas station. And boy, is time ever having a laugh at our expense. Time has the upper hand, it always does, as we sit and wait and worry. Every cancelled wedding, ruined vacation, abandoned business and lonely funeral is a dirty trick of circumstance now. That Neil Peart really knew what he was talking about. He should have, he had more than his share of dirty tricks played on him by circumstance.
That French part always reminds me of Pee Wee Herman saying merci beaucoup at the drive in. Smile.
George Harrison – My Sweet Lord:
Now hear is a song that needs no introduction, I’ve been listening to this plaintive plea my whole life, or at least as long as I can remember. It hits me the same way it always has. Straight to my core with fortifying grace and magnitude. The gentle opening acoustics followed by George’s sweet slide work lay a carpet of rose petals for the forthcoming earnest chant to traverse. It might just as well have been called My Sweet Slide but then, he wrote other songs about his guitar. This one was about his Lord. And my Lord. And your Lord.
I had a priest or some other authority figure once tell me that he was singing to false gods because of the inclusion of the Hare Krishnas and the Guru Vishnus, to which I say bullshit. If you can’t get on board with this simple prayer of spiritual love and peace than who needs you anyway. If you find it necessary to pick through and pull out all of the Hallelujahs like a selfish dolt picks the cashews out of the mixed nuts than do so but do it in that corner over there. Don’t ruin this for me.
George liked to dig in the earth. George didn’t suffer fools. George sought something not of this world. George was spiritual. George was flawed. George was my hero. I don’t stand in front of Picasso’s paintings and say “a kid could have done it.” I don’t pick apart perfection and try make it line up with my own beliefs. Beautiful things are a gift from God. My Sweet Lord tells me so.
Carbon/Silicon, The News:
Now here is a knock on the head wake up call to rouse me from the comfortable trance of My Sweet Lord.
Simply said, Mick Jones is the shit!
I think I’ll just lay the entire lyrics to this one here and let their relevance roll right over you. I mean that’s what the song is after all, a Paul Revere call to action and a slap upside the head but presented in a cheeky, good-natured highly danceable way. Mick does this as good as anyone else. After you read through the lyrics, I’ll tell you a quick story about Mick Jones and Carbon/Silicon.
People started caring about what they eat
And people started smiling at everyone they meet
And people started looking for good instead of bad
Realize what they could lose in what they always had
People started growing, instead of being crushed
And people started slowing down instead of being rushed
And people started looking with very different eyes
And this information now comes as a surprise
Good morning here’s the news and all of it is good
Good evening here’s the news and all of it is good
And the weather’s good!
People started calling those in power to account
And people started saying, “I want my voice to count”
And people started learning that they don’t need to fight
And they control their future and try to make it right
And people started feeling that better’s on the way
And people started feeling some peace and calm today
And people started liking the way that good life feels
And every precious moment becoming what is real
Good morning here’s the news and all of it is good
Good evening here’s the news and all of it is good
And the weather’s good!
People started caring about what they eat
And people started smiling at everyone they meet
And people started looking for good instead of bad
Realize what they could lose in what they always had
People started growing, instead of being crushed
And people started slowing down instead of being rushed
And people started looking with very different eyes
And this information now comes as a surprise
Good morning here’s the news and all of it is good
Good evening here’s the news and all of it is good
And the weather’s good!
Good morning here’s the news and all of it is good
Good evening here’s the news and all of it is good
And the weather’s good!
They say opposites attract and I suppose it is true. If I say John Lennon, Jenny says Paul McCartney, if I say Joe Strummer, she says Mick Jones. Neither of us are right but we do have our leanings. I don’t have to be pushed very hard to come down on her side. Her favorite Clash song is Train In Vain, sung by Mick and it’s hard to argue against it though I’m still inclined to say Washington Bullets or Wrong ‘em Boyo.
I never saw The Clash in concert, easily my most regrettable live show miss. I did see Joe at the Blue Note in Columbia and stood six feet from him throughout the show with my friend Susan as our spouses shared a table in the back of the room with another couple of less passionate Strummer fans. Joe’s energy had the whole room shaking up and down. Joe made you want to thrash and smash while Mick’s post-Clash career left you more inclined to dance. Jenny and I happily saw Big Audio Dynamite a couple of times, probably Jenny’s favorite band, certainly in her top three. When Carbon/Silicon came to be we of course were all in. Joe had left us by then and B.A.D. were no more, so we took our Mick where we could find him. The music Carbon/Silicon was releasing was fresh, yet easily accessible to fans of Mick’s previous bands so when they toured the States we jumped at the chance to go see them, though their nearest gig was in K.C.
We had never been to the venue before and were not all that familiar with Kansas City, so soon after arriving we set out to locate The Record Bar. We were surprised when we found the non-descript little club at the end of a vast strip mall parking lot. There was a tour bus parked near the entrance and we were a little geeky, giddy to realize that Mick and the band were likely on it and so very near. Maybe even looking out from behind the darkened glass at the two middle-aged fans standing alone like a couple of dopes. It was still hours before the show so we thought we might grab a bite before returning early to get a good spot in the general admission venue. And then I spied the record store at the other end of the parking lot. Well, there was no getting around my having to browse a bit so Jenny resigned herself to it and we walked on over.
We weren’t in the nearly empty store for very long when we started shooting each other agitated, wide-eyed looks while nodding towards the guy flipping through records one aisle of bins over. It was Mick himself. Alone. We looked at the man working the register and he gave us a knowing look, as if to say, be cool and let the man browse. Which is always and regrettably my natural inclination anyway. Mick knew he was being observed though we tired our best to respect his space. I believe we got a nod of thanks in return. I asked Jenny if we should approach him, simply to tell him what fans we were and she wisely suggested we let him be. He was busy anyway, not merely browsing but buying in great volume.
We stayed a while and I think I bought a record or two and then we left. Deciding just to hang out until the doors opened, we parked ourselves back at the entrance to The Record Bar. It wasn’t long before we saw Mick coming across the parking lot with a battered shopping cart, wobbly wheels and all, full of records. Now that we were a safe enough distance from him not to be intrusive, I think I shouted out something inane like, “Hey Mick, we’re really looking forward to the show tonight.” I believe he threw an arm up in a wave while continuing on his way. If he replied verbally, I can’t remember what he said. Anyway, that’s our Mick Jones story. Just like at the Joe Strummer show we ended up planting ourselves right in front of Mick’s microphone close enough to reach out and touch him, which we didn’t do. It was a great show with excellent guitar interplay between Mick and Tony James and the rocksteady bass of B.A.D. alum, Leo “Easykill” Williams. To this day it remains a favorite show of both of ours.
Pearl Jam – Daughter:
I really don’t have much to say about this one. Pearl Jam remains in my mind one of the few bright spots in a genre and era of music that I’m not overly fond of. When grunge was all the rage I was more inclined to listen to Big Audio Dynamite, or did I mention that? But I do enjoy Pearl Jam and Eddie Vedder has a great voice. I will say that I did discover something new about Daughter, listening to it through earbuds, isolated from other distraction. The acoustic guitar at the beginning of the song is nearly identical to the acoustic guitar at the beginning of The Guess Who’s No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature. Not the pretty intro but the the acoustic strumming that follows it. Don’t take my word for it, go have a listen for yourself. Or go listen to whatever takes you out of the moment or away from the television news or away from your phone feed. Let music be you’re your distraction and your salvation throughout this time of trouble. If you have a better salve for the ills of this world, please let me know about it.
Anyway this walk is over. Stay safe!
