“The worst is not. So
long as we can say, ‘This is the worst’”, said Edgar, who along with Kent
was the most noble and optimistic of the characters in King Lear.
Spare his plethora of Mad King Ludwig gold-rimmed chairs and
gaudy baroque paintings, there is nothing that is outwardly noble and nothing
to suggest that there is anything inwardly noble about Trump. Obviously, there
is a whole lot of bad. With the victory evening itself and the Bannon and
Sessions announcements, the last week has been frightening. But can it get
worse? Let’s hope this is the end of the worst and the guy’s damage is frozen
like a daiquiri.
But for the nihilists and those comforted by oncoming
apocalypses, we have Killing Joke’s, “Asteroid.”
I’m a ball of fire
Fire from heaven
Terror from nowhere
You’ll never shoot me down
Days turn to minutes
Five seconds till it hits
Three seconds to ground
One second to
Asteroid!
Coming in from the void
Vocalist Jaz Coleman, guitarist Geordie Walker and bassist
Raven (and Youth shortly afterward) gave birth to Killing Joke in a smoking
crater of apocalyptic theory and even though the majority of its fan base probably
dismisses Coleman’s beliefs as dark humor, they’ll go along for the ride
because Coleman’s soothsaying brings a healthy stream of boiling blood to
Killing Joke’s music.
“Asteroid” is a stunning tune, the bonfire exploding early with
Coleman’s screams (“And a 3rd
Angelsounded! And a star fell from
heaven!”), punctuated by sonic drum smashes. Apparently--contrary to
typical recording methods--the drums were recorded last on the album according
to Dave Grohl who guested on drums on this self-titled release, Killing Joke’s
11th in their 23rd year. Killing Joke recently released Pylon, another massive slab of epic alternative-rock
that belies their age and shows no sign of the band hitting any creative funk.
They’re one of a few bands I am still holding out hope to see live, despite living
in Turkey.
Coleman actually moved to Iceland early in the band’s career
to avoid the apocalypse, moving back shortly afterward without a peep, not even
‘whoops, wrong day’. Plenty of superstars in the U.S. have plans of hightailing
themselves out of America during the ensuing four-year apocalypse. Most will
make their way back before the end without a peep.
purchase [Silk Degrees] I was going to write about The Who's <The Song is Over>. I blocked out the song so that other SMM bloggers didn't nab my choice before I could get to it. But it's been busy days since the theme came online and my Who post is still in draft stage. Furthermore, I note that I checked in with the Who just one post back, so that is probably enough of them for now. Among the busy-ness of the past week has been rehearsals for my once-a-semester student/teacher music concert, where, for the 20th time in a row, I am doing my thing. My "thing" this time is Boz Scaggs' Loan Me a Dime. (Sorry if you think that SMM shouldn't flog the bloggers - but it just fits so well) Wait a minute ... Boz *must* have something that relates to Over/End. Of course he does: it's called "It's Over", from Silk Degrees.Way back before I gave all my albums away because they were taking up too much space and the turntable had fallen into dis-repair, I had a vinyl copy of Silk Degrees. You know: Silk Degrees with ... well ... lots of quite decent songs. Like all those others that you know but never really hit the big time. Boz mostly/consistently seems to come in at around number 30-50 on the hit chart: pretty fine, if not big hits and Silk Degrees has several. Way back in the 60s, Boz was a part of the Steve Miller Band: he did various vocals as well as some guitar work - off and on from '59 to '68. It was in '69 that he made it to Muscle Shoals, where he recorded Loan Me a Dime with Duane Allman doing the solo guitar. Silk Degrees was his 7th(!?) album - in 1976. That's a while back, but he is still making music? In fact, he has been in and out of the music scene more or less since Silk Degrees. He's playing the West Coast in November and then the midWest and Florida in January & February, so you've got a chance to catch him there.
Trump has answered the great conundrum of the 20thC: how did a rational people like the Germans come to vote for a demagogue like Hitler?
I am probably not the most appropriate, as a Brit, to be passing comment on your election outcome. But I know one who does, and his widely reported, at least over here, tweet of 11/9 will no doubt offend many. But, as ever, those who have decried his comment merely miss the point. This is actually neither comparing Trump to Hitler, nor calling Americans fools, merely pointing out how shit happens, quirks all of the wrong time, wrong place, complications to what the literati might call common sense. Or common preconception, anyway.
So what of Bragg, archetypal Essex boy, the "Bard of Barking", his home town? And why has he become such a potent force in musico-political activism? Probably best known stateside for his being granted custodianship of the legacy of unfinished lyrics by Woody Guthrie and producing, with the band Wilco, 2 excellent volumes of new music for them, he has had a long enough history over here of irritating the establishment as to have become a national treasure, cropping up regularly on news programmes as a credible and articulate voice of, often, a counterculture to the prevailing winds. (It is sort of how things happen over here.)
Born in 1957 of english-italian stock, he first hit the establishment buffers aged 11, failing his 11 plus exams, the then entry into a better, or at least further education, He thus channeled his interest in poetry into a passion for music, picking up a guitar and practising like mad. The mid-70s were a good time for starting bands. In response to the overblown pomp of the dinosaurs of the music industry, another establishment, punk rock had begun it's eventually unsuccessful bid to smash it all down. His first band didn't make it, but in the process he learnt how music could shape opinion, citing the Clash and their appearance at a legendary Rock Against Racism carnival in 1978 as the moment. Oddly, his next move was to join the army, possibly unsurprisingly finding it not the best place for an opinionated young man of left-leaning ideological views. Buying himself out, as was necessary, after 3 months, cost £175, equivalent today to about $650.
Taking the d.i.y. ethos to the next level, he next became a busker, albeit with electric guitar (attached to a small speaker), honing his art and attracting the attention of the movers and shakers, including, as seems did everyone who ever made it, DJ John Peel. Peel had commented on his hunger mid-show, galvanising Bragg to immediately deliver a plate of curry and a demo. A series of records ensued, deliberately produced and sold cheaply, mixing political comment with quirky love songs, usually just voice and barely amplified guitar. His singing voice was a thing of simplicity; raw, unadorned and utterly without any accent other than his own, unmistakably thames estuary inflection. Nominally punk/new wave, irredeemably folk, at least to my ears, and thus my immediate interest. In a nation under the thumb of Margaret Thatcher, there was a healthy appetite for opposition, Bragg becoming a regular at the barricades.
Astonishingly, perhaps, songs like the above were hits, but sales were never massive enough for him to have complete control, at least not whilst in the thrall of an increasingly global record company, who expected ever more sales and commerciality. The overt nature of of his politics was probably rather too full on for universal coverage. It seemed for a while as if he could deliver, especially with anthemic and thought inspiring single, Sexuality, a pop song despite itself (but who listens to the words, anyway, perhaps the curse of the motivated lyricist.) In the end, and in order to get back the rights to his back catalogue, he had to pay back the residual of his six figure advance.
It was about now, late 90's that Nora Guthrie, daughter of Woody, came across him, sensing something of her troubadour father in his work and leanings. Whilst not an obvious candidate, Bragg took this like a duck to water, his vocal cords taking on just enough translanticism to be credible.
Back then, in the UK, the politics seemingly having turned his way, as ever it turned out so not quite the hoped for policies and directions of flow. (Which may be a glimmer of hope post Trump's victory. Just as you have to be careful for what you wish for, maybe so have more hope of your worst fears than you expect?) Anyhow, with the disappointments of "New" Labour, the nominally socialist or quasi-democratic party we have, Bragg turned his ear to the vexed issue of national identity, thwarted and subverted by an abusive nationalism, trying to find a path between racist exclusivist views and inclusive pride in a mongrel nation. Sound familiar?
Latterly his output has seemed gentler, his last 2 solo releases being often more straightforward song cycles of middle-aged contentedness, up to a point, in his own skin. But, having seen him play live this summer, at one of the music festivals I try to get to each year, on a scorching sunday afternoon, slotted in between Wilko Johnson and Squeeze, days before the fated Brexit vote, he was as rousing and rallying as ever. Playing a set of largely political song, accompanied only by his own guitar and a pedal steel player, he did his best to plead a vote to remain in Europe, to much applause and acclaim. To no avail, as it happened, but it gave me hope.
As I write he tours the U.K., alongside credible songwriter and producer, Joe Henry, revisiting some Guthrie-esque americana roots, to promote their excellent duet record, 2 voices, acoustic guitars and occasional eavesdropped background sound. His voice, now a weathered and tuneful instrument in it's new lower key, a joy alongside Henry's higher tones, and some wonderful songs. Like this:
So, be Billys and Braggs, as Washington threatens to burn. As one of the songs featured above says, maybe, it's true, in a somewhat different sense, there is indeed power in a Union, whether of states or of workers.
Back in 2000, more Americans turned out to vote for a qualified, competent, intelligent, thoughtful Democrat who was maybe not the most exciting candidate, but the Electoral College chose an unqualified, intellectually incurious, right wing clown who liked to spend time away from the White House.
That time, things worked out quite well, what with 9/11, the Patriot Act, Guantanamo, two foolish wars, lies about weapons of mass destruction, government sponsored torture, ISIS, the botched Katrina response, alienation of our allies, no health care plan, a continued refusal to credit science and facts, ballooning deficits, increasing income and wealth inequality and the closest thing to a great depression since the Great Depression. Just for starters.
In 2003, even before much of the Bush debacle had even happened, sneaky smart punk band NoFX released their album The War on Errorism, which, in part, is a scathing attack on the still relatively new Bush administration. It included “Idiots Are Taking Over,” a song whose lyrics, only slightly over the top, unfortunately ring true again. For example:
It's not the right time to be sober Now the idiots have taken over Spreading like a social cancer, is there an answer? * * * The benevolent and wise are being thwarted, ostracized, what a bummer The world keeps getting dumber Insensitivity is standard and faith is being fancied over reason * * * What are we left with? A nation of god-fearing pregnant nationalists Who feel it's their duty to populate the homeland Pass on traditions How to get ahead religions And prosperity via simpleton culture
It took us eight years to get rid of that awful crew, although the obstructionist Republicans in Congress worked hard to thwart progress.
And now, we have come full circle. Let’s hope that it isn’t over, and that through smart actions, both in and out of Washington, it doesn’t take that long to reverse things this time.
Public Enemy, Fight the Power (purchase) Sometimes, simple sentiments say it best. Sometimes, there really are no words and music, glorious, pulsing, pounding music, makes life livable.
Like many fellow Americans, the words—the reality of the
words “President-Elect Trump”—have me alternating between nausea, bewilderment,
speechlessness, disgust and just plain furious anger. I don’t know what to say.
Thank God we have music in times like this. I don’t know
what else I’d turn to.
That’s all I got for this month’s theme. Politics is dead, I
think. Time to take the power back…
Just a short contribution, in light of Tuesday’s shocking election result. I’ll try to have something more substantial on the debacle over at Another Old Guy in a few days. (Here it is!)
My first thought when I heard the final result was that this was not the America that I knew, and that turned to nauseous feeling when I realized that half of this country sees America in a very different way than me—where division, hate, misogyny, racism, anti-Semitism, homophobia, bullying, greed and egotism are glorified. And I was pissed.
Here’s what my America is:
we believe that the American dream is big enough for everyone — for people of all races and religions, for men and women, for immigrants, for LGBT people, and people with disabilities. For everyone. . . . I count my blessings every single day that I am an American. And I still believe as deeply as I ever have that if we stand together and work together with respect for our differences, strength in our convictions and love for this nation, our best days are still ahead of us. Because, you know — you know, I believe we are stronger together and we will go forward together. And you should never, ever regret fighting for that. You know, scripture tells us, “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season, we shall reap if we do not lose heart.” So my friends, let us have faith in each other, let us not grow weary, let us not lose heart, for there are more seasons to come. And there is more work to do.
That was from the concession speech delivered by Hillary Clinton, the one candidate who was qualified, both by experience and temperament, to lead America, the candidate who, as I write this, got more votes than the President Elect, and who would have made a damn fine President. And someone who, at least publicly, is a lot more gracious than I feel right now.
I’d like to hope that what has happened over the last year is not America. But I’m just not sure anymore.
I would have preferred to post this 24 hours earlier: hate to be accused of
tilting the votes one way or another.
Rather than ramblin’ off on a tangent about how the state of the poor in
the US is a result of politics and dragging Ry Cooder into the whole business,
I might have gone directly to some Cooder politics in my previous post.
An article published via NPR a while back noted that Barack Obama was only
the 2nd US president to visit Trinidad. He was preceded by FDR. To follow up on
FDR's visit, Atilla the Hun composed a song.
To me, Cooder's <Into the Purple Valley> is about the time he solidified what I see as his style: crisp guitar of a semi-jazz style, assertive vocals, unusual backing bands and song-choice/themes that bring (musical) history to life.
Several others have taken up the song (van Dyke Parks and Ry among them).
The NPR story noted that FDR's Secretary of State received a certain amount
of credit in the song (it was Cordell Hull), and the article continued by
asking if Obama's Secretary of State (at that time) would have gotten as much
credit today (need I tell you who that was?)
Now, we know a little about Obama’s musical taste - see the various artists
he has invited to the White House, and we know that FDR became a fan of calypso
following his visit to the island. But how much do we know about his Secretary
of State’s (AT THAT TIME) musical preferences? Hope the results wont skew your
votes either way!
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