I was in stationed in Germany when this came out. The album, “Full Moon Fever,” quickly became a favorite for home listening.
It’s ironic to think of that time. The U.S.S.R. was the United States’ towering enemy. Germany was divided, a creation established at the end of World War II. The Berlin Wall stood firm. A few years later, it, and the Soviet Union, were gone. We’ve just celebrated the anniversary of Germany re-unification.
The people I was stationed with in Germany were hard-working, patriotic, dependable, and loyal. Yet, two decades later, I’m on a the other side of a political divide from them. They’re angry with pro athletes who take a knee. They want a wall built. They fear refugees and distrust Muslims. A lot of them love Con Don Trump. Many despise Hillary Clinton for reasons they can’t explain, except it’s Hillary, and they don’t trust her.
It’s interesting to contemplate what’s come between us. Maybe it was just music, a common mission, and enjoying a good time that brought us together.
One more time, from the heart, Tom Petty, with “I Won’t Back Down,” co-written with Jeff Lynne.
Streaming to you live through memories of recorded music heard in my youth, here is Supertramp with “Bloody Well Right.” Seems appropriate as we wrestle with rights and bloodshed.
Well, like Joe Walsh sang back in nineteen seventy-eight, “Life’s Been Good” to me so far.
There are a few wee differences between the life Joe sings about and my life. Like, I don’t have fans writing me letters telling me I’m great. No gold records on the wall. No Maserati. But to give credit where it’s all due, Joe Walsh is eight years older than me. I still have time to catch him.
On the other hand, I haven’t experienced any of the devastation many people of the world have endured, I’m not starving, ill, or on the edge of desperation. My miseries fall into the category of first world blues.
You might recognize those lyrics. They’re from Ozzie Osbourne’s song, “Crazy Train.”
When I first heard it, it struck me as right. Craziness was, is, a subject that’s avoided. It’s considered a perjorative, and a derogative expression. Ozzie fully embraced it, starting with that maniacal opening laugh, and that welcome, “All aboard.”
The song fits these days. Caught between political rails, we’re riding a crazy train. Everything is politicized and amplified. Political discourse is healthy, but too many of us hang onto hate and the past, refusing to open our eyes and look around. We just keep riding this crazy train. Sooner or later, it’ll all go off the rails. When it does — if it does — I expect few mea culpas. All of us are blaming the others. Liberals, progressives, conservatives, neo-Nazis, Republicans, Democrats, white supremacists, slaves, refugees, religions, history, wealth, privilege, ignorance, poverty, disease and war…we throw the blame around, and hang onto our new world slogan: Never Forget.
We, of any ilk, are loathe to forget anything. On the one hand, we must remember to learn, and not repeat our mistakes. But we need to find that balance between remembering, learning, and moving forward. Of course, to move forward, an agreed upon direction is required. We fail agreeing on where we should be in ten years. And sometimes, we remember one aspect of history to the detriment of other aspects.
I can’t forget. I try. Perhaps I don’t try enough. For example, I can’t forget the last election for POTUS. I despise Donald Trump. He represents the world’s worst qualities to me. By extension, I have a hard time with his supporters. I don’t understand their support. They don’t understand why I don’t support him. They don’t understand why I can’t forget. But I can’t forget how Trump and other conservatives treated Barack Obama, and Bill Clinton, long before this.
It’s not just politics, though. Old wrongs, bitterness, and resentment cling to me like cobwebs. I can never rid myself of them all. I try working and writing myself out of it. I bite my tongue, take a lot of deep breaths, and indulge in long counts to calm myself and move on. But I’m fighting the enemy I best know from longevity, yet one that I know the least. Because he knows me, too, and knows how to manipulate me.
Yeah, we’re often our own worst enemy. That’s how we end up on the crazy train.
“Across the Universe,” written by John Lennon, and performed by the Beatles.
When I hear the song lyrics, I often think of the writing process. For example:
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a restless wind
Inside a letter box they
Tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
It’s a joy when a song is out there that satisfies on several levels. It’s even better when several performers or musical groups cover it, and you find that you can listen to these versions and like them all, but for slightly different reasons.
That’s the case with today’s songs. My dreams last night ended with me awakening to this song, “Take Me to the River.” My brain was originally streaming Al Green’s version. I mean, it’s Al Green. But I drifted to the Talking Heads’ take on it, and that stayed with me as I walked and got into the writing mood.
But, just in case, here’s Al Green performing, with a few guests. I enjoy the different lyrics from the Heads’ version.
The Ginger Blade wanted out last night. He’s a cat; he’s young; they go out at night.
As I let him out the door, he paused and looked at me over his shoulder. “I’ll be back,” he said. Then, he trotted into the darkness.
From that streamed the music for today. Thinking of Papi’s words, my mind connected with a nineteen sixty-eight Simon and Garfunkel hit. “Mrs Robinson” was on the album “Bookends,” but is probably best known for its inclusion in the movie, “The Graduate.” When Papi told me, “I’ll be back,” I started singing, “Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes on you.”
I wonder at what age people ask, “What movie? What song? Who is Simon and Garfunkel? Who is Joe DiMaggio? Who is Papi? Is he the Ginger Blade?”
The Wayback Machine began streaming another relic of a song to me. This one blasted me from the early 70s. I’ve found that when my writing sessions are going strong, my song list shifts into that period. It wasn’t my happiest time, so I don’t know why I stream that era’s music.
Here’s those synthetic progressive rock masters, Emerson, Lake and Palmer – ELP – with, “Welcome Back, My Friends, to the Show That Never Ends.”
It’s a quiet autumn Saturday morning, a perfect day to sip coffee and listen to some nineteen seventies era American rock. How ’bout Aerosmith, with “Sweet Emotion,” from nineteen seventy-five?
This one came out while I was going through technical training. I didn’t listen to music much during that period. I basically had a clock radio in my dorm room in the Triangle on Keesler Air Force Base outside of Biloxi, Mississippi. I was there for two months, and then went to Wright-Patt for my first duty assignment, and married. With all this, it wasn’t until the next year, nineteen seventy-six, that I listened to Aerosmith.
In September of seventy-six, I reported for duty at Clark Air Base in the Philippines. “Sweet Emotion” was on Aerosmith’s “Toys In the Attic” album. I was on an unaccompanied tour and living in the barracks. I bought some stereo gear, and “Toys In the Attic.” It was available, and I knew it and liked it. I also bought Al Stewart’s “The Year of the Cat,” something by 10ccs, and Stevie Wonder’s “Songs in the Key of Life.”
Besides their hits of “Sweet Emotions” and “Walk This Way,” Toys had several songs I enjoyed, including “Sucking On My Big Ten Inch,” “Uncle Salty,” and “Toys In the Attic.” I listen to any of them, and I’m suddenly twenty-years old in the Philippines again.
Nineteen sixty-nine, thirteen years old. The Rolling Stones were one of the hottest, biggest rock groups around. And this song, “Gimme Shelter,” stopped me with its opening. Haunting, arresting, it gave me pause to hear what was going to come next, revealing intense, moody, and angry lyrics.
Michael Seidel, writer 