We had a Black Lives Matter/Defund the Police protest and march in Ashland this weekend. My wife and I didn’t attend; her underlying health issues increase her vulnerability.
But we drove down to check it out. Hundreds attended. It was peaceful. Most — probably ninety-plus percent — were masked but social distancing wasn’t observed, so mixed bag. Holding our breath on that as the case count continues rising in Oregon.
Young and old, Black, White, Asian, and Latino marched. Later, as we talked about it during “Sixty Minutes”, my wife asked, “Why do we need to keep doing this? When will it permanently change?”
Good question, one that stayed with me this morning. The question prompted a recall of a 2007 Foo Fighters song and video, “The Pretender”. Dave Grohl said in interviews that 2007’s political unrest influenced him when he wrote it. Watching the video, well, you see the same themes as in 2020: protests, taking a knee, confronting police, violence escalating.
Big difference exist between now and 2007. Videos emerge almost weekly of police killing people, almost always Blacks, for little provocation. Too many times, it was brushed aside, hidden again and again. But as it’s happened, it’s just become, too much. The expression, “Black Lives Matter”, arose to express the gulf we see as Blacks were killed or had the police called by Whites for being black. The expression, “Being Karen”, became the code for privileged White people who called the police for such a list of shocking reasoning about why Black people weren’t supposed to be there, or why they were a threat.
“The Pretender” speaks to these things. All those things done by the police hat were hidden or protected are being exposed, again, again, and again. That’s the momentum that keeps this wheel spinning, and will until, finally, Black Lives Matter.
Fed the cats, used the restroom, woke up (yeah, that was the order, to the best of my recollection, your honor), and realized I was humming “My Hero” by the Foo Fighters (1998). Thought it a good song for these times, when people need everyday heroes to manage commonplace matters.
Came across this song last night as I drifted the net. I’m a Nirvana, Grohl, Foo Fighters, AC/DC fan. This Foo Fighters cover of “Let There Be Rock” by AC/DC fills those squares.
The song itself, released back in 1977, with lyrics about the birth of rock, is sillier than I enjoy, but works well for nostalgia and thoughts of back in the day. The Foo Fighters (like always, it seems) does a fine cover. Lovely heavy bass line. I could use more of Chris on lead but the band’s intensity is mesmerizing.
While I’m on about nostalgia, we had a short net outage yesterday, reminding me of what it’s like without the web to offer news, opinion, entertainment, and diversion.
Of course, only the first line had a remote connection to what was going on. I was waiting, they came, we said a few things, and went on with our business. That’s a bit unlike the Foo Fighters’ song, “Everlong” (1997) about being happy in a relationship and realizing it was ending, and if anything will ever be as wonderful as that.
Yeah, been there, more than once. Once there’s a fracture in the relationship, it doesn’t seem like anything is ever the same again. From the break comes loss, confusion, and distrust. You put it behind you, but it nags like an ulcer on your lip.
I went out to call in a cat last night and found a surprisingly clear night, full of stars. Quiet, the air felt mildly warm. I breathed it all in and scanned the stars. That brought the Foo Fighters’ 2003 song, “Times Like These” into my stream as the cat popped up over the fence, leaped down and ran across the yard to me.
I’m a new day rising
I’m a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
It’s been twenty years since this was recorded in concert, spit in the cosmic wind as far as time goes, but a chunk of living for humans on Eath. These humans are renown for their musical performances. These humans are David Bowie, with the Foo Fighters. These humans were performing this song, “Hallo, Spaceboy,” at Madison Square Garden in New York to celebrate Bowie’s fiftieth birthday.
I awoke with Tom Jones singing “What’s New Pussycat?” in my head.
I don’t know how Tom got in there; I thought he was a bigger person that that. There are multiple unguarded entries into my head, of course. He may have slipped in through an ear opening, my nostrils, or my mouth. My mouth tasted like Tom Jones might have walked through there during the night, when I awoke.
Shrugging off the song, I instead began streaming the Foo Fighters’ “Best of You” from sometime in the first decade of this bold, new century. According to what my memory tells me about an interview I read with Dave Grohl back sometime in the shadow of the song’s release, it was written about breaking away from things that confine you, or something like that. I might be thinking of another song, or making this up completely.
Several lines in the song attract me. Like, “Were you born to resist, or be abused?” I’ve pondered the ways in which our systems abuse us, and how we take it with a tautological shrug, because that’s the way things are.
Later, he sings in a calmer moment, “I’ve got another confession my friend, I’m no fool.
I’m getting tired of starting again, somewhere new.”
That’s really I feel this lethargic summer Friday. I’m getting tired of starting again.
Blasted through another night of dreams. I traveled the world, saw confusion and met it with more confusion. A little clarity came with reflection after I was awake for a while.
Sometimes, you know, you wonder how people get away with what they do. You wonder, where the hell is the justice? What trick of fate lead some through lives of dissatisfaction and loss as others thrive no matter who and what they destroy in the process? We wish for instant karma or some kind of reckoning. We want to know what happens to them. Why do you follow all the rules only to end up bitter and sad as others break the rules and end up wealthy and happy?
I wonder but there aren’t answers. What’s the point of wondering, right? Sure, the unexamined life is much easier to live.
Let’s just rock the days away. Here’s ‘Best of You’ with Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters, from 2005. It was a song I heard quite a bit that year. Back then, my team was still in the SF Bay area. They were working from home from Santa Rosa, Walnut Creek, San Mateo, Pacifica, San Jose…all over. Once a month, I’d drive down from Ashland in Oregon and meet with them for planning and team building. We’d have lunch, discuss trends and problems, and just chat. The drive wasn’t difficult until I edged into the Bay area traffic around Fairfield. After that, it was hellacious.
Michael Seidel, writer 