Tag: The Police

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Read a QAnon post yesterday about how JFK Jr’s secret son could be Donald Trump, Jr. JFK Jr isn’t dead; secretly still alive, he escaped the assassination attempt that was the plane crash which purportedly killed him.

In response, I thought of “De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da“, a 1980 song by The Police about simple words and logic that ties you up.

Poets, priests, and politicians
Have words to thank for their positions
Words that scream for your submission
And no one’s jamming their transmission
Because when their eloquence escapes you
Their logic ties you up and rapes you

De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Their innocence will pull me through
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
They’re meaningless and all that’s true

h/t to Genius.com

 

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Today’s theme music, “Every Breath You Take” by the Police (1983), was an obvious and unoriginal choice. Coaxed out of the cerebral cortex by images on the TV and net of law enforcement officers watching and attacking protesters, it works on multiple levels about watchers, watching, and being watched. Besides those confrontations, we’re watching COVID-related numbers, election events, and government actions as we gyrate about the best course to kickstart the money machines and normalize life as the case numbers rise.

The Police’s stalking song feels about right on this day in 2020.

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Monday’s Theme Music

I had to venture out to a local store for a few things we deemed critical. As I shopped, maintaining a social distance (six feet) from others, their apparent (and maybe willful) ignorance annoyed me. The chorus of an old The Police (remember them?) song jumped into full-loop mode in my mental stream.

Don’t stand, don’t stand so
Don’t stand so close to me
Don’t stand, don’t stand so
Don’t stand so close to me

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

(You prob’ly knew that was comin’, dinja?)

Yes, those lyrics from “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” (why, it’s right there in the title) from 1980 are perfect for when you’re out and others are nearby in the age of coro. Beyond that, I enjoy this song about an older male teacher and his young female student. Nice beat.

 

 

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Today’s song came by way of a cat. He went out through the pet door from the MBR, crossed the patio, came in through the living room side door, and then walked around behind me, greeting me as I came down the hall from the MBR.

Whipping my head back, I asked, “How did you get here so fast?”

He flicked his tail once and sat.

I nodded. “Everything you do is magic.” I knew, of course, that it wasn’t magic, but quantum walking. Cats are adept at walking through universes from one to another, turning up at odd times and places.

That simple phrase, though, invited the stream to begin “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” (The Police, 1981).

I need to watch what I say.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

With all this Apollo 11 hoopla going on, naturally I thought of moon songs, and ended up streaming The Police and “Walking on the Moon” (1979).

I’ve read many account of Americans who decline to categorically embrace that humans walked on the Moon, despite NASA’s evidence. Ryan Newman, a NASCAR driver, isn’t ready to embrace it; he’s only seen photographs. Photographs, videos, rocks, etc., can all be faked.

I know how he feels. I’ve never met him. I’ve only seen photographs and videos of Ryan Newman. He might not exist outside of CGI. For all I know, he may not have said the words attributed to him. So really, if a fake person who only exists on photographs, videos, magazines, and newspapers claims that another event is faked, does the first cancel the second?

It’ll take some giant steps. If humans ever get to Mars, I wonder how many of them will believe it?

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Monday’s Theme Music

Organizing writing thoughts this morning delivered today’s theme music. Although I wasn’t thinking about murder, I was numbering and ordering what I was going to do. From that began the Sting/Andy Summers jazzy song, “Murder by Numbers” by The Police (1983).

It’s all about one, two, three, as easy to learn as a, b, c.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

“Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” (1981) has me hooked today. I enjoy the middle part where the vocalist (Sting) laments,

I resolve to call her up a thousand times a day
And ask her if she’ll marry me in some old fashioned way
But my silent fears have gripped me
Long before I reach the phone
Long before my tongue has tripped me
Must I always be alone?

h/t AZLyrics.com

I think that passage captures the angst that so many encounter when trying to move their relationship forward through the waves of love, hope, fear, and doubt.

I also think often of this song, and how the magic of a relationship changes through the years. The magic remains but often comes in different guises from the magic that we first experienced. Every now and then, though, that first magic is felt and remembered, one more time.

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Friday’s Theme Music

A good one out of the eighties, a reflection that, no matter what happens or who you appear to be, you have a core of who you are. In this case, Sting is the “King of Pain”, part of the new wave rock movement. I don’t know why, but this was the song streaming in me this morning as my cat curled up on my pillow and purred against my head.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

My cats were singing this to me last night and this morning. Okay, it may have only seemed like they were singing (or humming, or purring) it because everywhere I went, and everything I did, they were watching me.

Here are The Police with Sting’s composition, “Every Breath You Take.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

Rising out of nineteen eighty-three came a mocking, damning tirade on behalf of the common person just coping with their chains of fucking moments. Called “Synchronicity II,” created, performed, and released by The Police, the song has a hard-edge beat to buttress bitter lyrics. Take these lines:

and every single meeting with his so-called superior
Is a humiliating kick in the crotch.

Few are the people of whatever gender, race, country, and vocation that haven’t sat in a meeting and thought, “These people are my superiors? My superior what? All they are is a superior pain in the ass.”

Can’t identify? How about,

Daddy grips the wheel and stares alone into the distance,
He knows that something somewhere has to break.

That’s how it feels: something somewhere has to break. If you listen, you can hear the deep groans of the wrenching cracks in the world. They’re just not yet visible. Or maybe I hear them in my head.

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