Weekly 4 Pack
Week One 5/1/10
Congratulations
MGMT
Is the fact that this album makes me wonder what a psychedelic Carol King record would sound like a good thing? Maybe. I read an interview with these boys in RS a while back in which they claimed to be getting wrecked on drugs because they were living like rock stars ironically. Have we reached the point in society where irony can be traded as cheaply as its made? Maybe. Does the fact that one can hear the bones of Muzak in almost every track mean there is something cloyingly artificial going on here? Maybe. Will I change my rating after my wife gets a copy of this and I listen to it a few hundred times driving around the north shore this summer? Maybe. Will my rating go up or down? Maybe. GRADE: C-
Here Lies Love
Fatboy Slim, David Byrne
Like its heroine's shoe closet, the album contains too much variety to please every set of ears (or feet for that matter, though long stretches are agreeable danceable in a NYC 70's disco kind of way, meaning it is easy to imagine white people gormlessly shuffling their feet). Unfortunately, the one constant is a kind of schmaltzy, musical theater execution. A team of extraordinary voices has been gathered to sing about a subject that not one sounds overly passionate about. Still, there is enough charm here, enough Byrneian love of rhythm and harmony to warrant a listen. GRADE:C
Volume Two
She & Him
Hangover music occupies a quite necessary niche in the life of a drinker. I should know I am one. With Vol. 2, She and Him have concocted a collection of songs to soothe one's aching mind as he contemplates whether or not he's going to be able to keep his eggs down, after a night of living like Ike Turner or at least Jamie Turner. "Me and You" is the real stand out track. It mixes dust bowl gospel chanting with dreamy, western Burt Bacharach like orchestration. This album steels one for the long day of recovery ahead. And yes junior, I'll have that coffee now. GRADE: B
Born Again Revisited
Times New Viking
Low-fi like it was recorded under several blankets that smell of patchouli, Times New Viking is certainly the best band ever to be named after a made up font. Organs buzz and crawl over jagged guitar lines, the vocals are more like echoes heard from the near distance, and yet it all manages to sound urgent and finished. A sheen of rough-hewn beauty creeps through on nearly every song. GRADE: B+
Friday, April 30, 2010
Saturday, January 31, 2009
How The Album "The Soft Parade" by the Doors Explains The Entire History of Mankind
Part Two: Historical Turning Points, Barack Obama and "Shaman's Blues"
Friends, with inauguration day not long past, I want to address the serious subject of the Obama Presidency through my preferred prism, the lyrics of the late Jim Morrison. Could he see the future? Was there some cracked wisdom to his chemically aided pronouncements? It is safe to view him as a modern day Socrates imbibing Michelob hemlock? The answer to all of these questions is an urgent yes. As proof, I humbly offer "Shaman's Blues."
The music is urgent from the outset, befitting for a song filled with such portent. The beat is as steady and constant as the persistent march of time. Manzerek's organ alternately wails and hums while Krieger's guitar always threatens to shoot off in some new direction before riffing back to the beat in a satisfying series of ripples. Then Morrison, ever the drunken master, peps up to deliver an almost breathless stream of words which may have told more than even the master had foreseen.
There will never be another one like you.
There will never be another one
Who can do the things you do, oh!
Obama is and will forever be the first African American President in the history of the US. It is important to keep in mind that the political machine he built was a mixture of the old and the new.
Will you give another chance?
Will you try, little try?
Please stop and you'll remember
We were together, anyway… All right!
The Internet which had been to that point a crude tool in the marshaling of a campaign became central to his campaign. What was interesting was the way the Obama team used the Internet to bring together Democrats of every kind and stripe to function as foot soldiers in their local communities. They indeed gave old politics another chance by combining the kind of door to door glad handing with the massive electronic reach of the information super highway.
And if you have a certain evening
You could lend to me,
I'd give it all right back to you.
Know how it has to be with you.
I know your moves and your mind,
And your mind, and your mind,
And your mind, and your mind,
And your mind, and you're mine!
In his 1995 book Dreams of My Father President Obama seems to answer Jim. "With our eyes closed, we uttered the same words, but in our hearts we each prayed to our own masters; we each remained locked in our own memories; we all clung to our own foolish magic." It is as if the "certain evening" is the closing of ones eyes and simply speaking one's mind is all we have to do.
Will you stop to think and wonder
Just what you'll see
Out on the trainyard nursing penitentiary?
It's gone, I cry out long.
Play it, brother.
President Obama again in Dreams of my father: "maybe once you stripped away the rationalizations, it always came down to a simple matter of escape."
So yeah Wikipedia is not always the way.
Did you stop it to consider how it will feel,
Cold grindin' grizzly bear jaws hot on your heels?
Do you often stop and whisper in Saturday's shore
"The whole world's a Savior?"
Who could ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever ask for more?
I think this quote from his inaugural address needs no further explanation as to how it helps to answer even explain what Jim was trying to tell us. "Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many.
They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America — they will be met." Kind of chills up a spine, doesn't it?
Do you remember?
Will you stop, will you stop the pain?
Again we turn to our President's Inaugural Address. He answers Jim it not directly then in at least in a hopeful yet oblique manner. "Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end."
And there will never be another one like you.
There will never be another one
Who can do the things you do, oh!
Will you give another chance?
Will you try a little try?
Please stop and you'll remember
We were together, anyway… All right!
"Transparency and the rule of law will be the touchstones of this presidency."
How you must of think and wondered,
How I must feel
Out on the meadows
While you're on the field?
I'm alone for you, and I cry.
Again from Dreams of My Father:"Was the collaboration of some slaves any different than the silence of some Iranians who stood by and did nothing as Savak thugs murdered and tortured opponents of the Shah? How could we judge other men until we had stood in their shoes?"
He's sweatin', look at him…
Actually President Obama keeps it pretty cool. It's really his touchstone. The man doesn't let much get to him and believe me that is hard because ignorance and violence go together in this country like the Anglos and the Saxons.
Optical promise…
You think it's easy coming up with this shit? Okay Jim, optical promise. Now can we get back to future President Obama?
(Heh, heh, heh.)
Maybe he meant to say optimal pilsner? That would be more like Jim. That's a Jim, I understand.
You'll be dead and in hell before I'm born…
Yeah I'm going with optimal pilsner.
Sure thing…
Exactly Jim.
Bridesmaid…
Okay, Bridegroom.
The only solution —
Isn't it amazing?
It is Jim for you to have predicted and engaged in one of your imitable Q & A's with our future president is amazing.
Part Two: Historical Turning Points, Barack Obama and "Shaman's Blues"
Friends, with inauguration day not long past, I want to address the serious subject of the Obama Presidency through my preferred prism, the lyrics of the late Jim Morrison. Could he see the future? Was there some cracked wisdom to his chemically aided pronouncements? It is safe to view him as a modern day Socrates imbibing Michelob hemlock? The answer to all of these questions is an urgent yes. As proof, I humbly offer "Shaman's Blues."
The music is urgent from the outset, befitting for a song filled with such portent. The beat is as steady and constant as the persistent march of time. Manzerek's organ alternately wails and hums while Krieger's guitar always threatens to shoot off in some new direction before riffing back to the beat in a satisfying series of ripples. Then Morrison, ever the drunken master, peps up to deliver an almost breathless stream of words which may have told more than even the master had foreseen.
There will never be another one like you.
There will never be another one
Who can do the things you do, oh!
Obama is and will forever be the first African American President in the history of the US. It is important to keep in mind that the political machine he built was a mixture of the old and the new.
Will you give another chance?
Will you try, little try?
Please stop and you'll remember
We were together, anyway… All right!
The Internet which had been to that point a crude tool in the marshaling of a campaign became central to his campaign. What was interesting was the way the Obama team used the Internet to bring together Democrats of every kind and stripe to function as foot soldiers in their local communities. They indeed gave old politics another chance by combining the kind of door to door glad handing with the massive electronic reach of the information super highway.
And if you have a certain evening
You could lend to me,
I'd give it all right back to you.
Know how it has to be with you.
I know your moves and your mind,
And your mind, and your mind,
And your mind, and your mind,
And your mind, and you're mine!
In his 1995 book Dreams of My Father President Obama seems to answer Jim. "With our eyes closed, we uttered the same words, but in our hearts we each prayed to our own masters; we each remained locked in our own memories; we all clung to our own foolish magic." It is as if the "certain evening" is the closing of ones eyes and simply speaking one's mind is all we have to do.
Will you stop to think and wonder
Just what you'll see
Out on the trainyard nursing penitentiary?
It's gone, I cry out long.
Play it, brother.
President Obama again in Dreams of my father: "maybe once you stripped away the rationalizations, it always came down to a simple matter of escape."
So yeah Wikipedia is not always the way.
Did you stop it to consider how it will feel,
Cold grindin' grizzly bear jaws hot on your heels?
Do you often stop and whisper in Saturday's shore
"The whole world's a Savior?"
Who could ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever ask for more?
I think this quote from his inaugural address needs no further explanation as to how it helps to answer even explain what Jim was trying to tell us. "Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many.
They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America — they will be met." Kind of chills up a spine, doesn't it?
Do you remember?
Will you stop, will you stop the pain?
Again we turn to our President's Inaugural Address. He answers Jim it not directly then in at least in a hopeful yet oblique manner. "Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end."
And there will never be another one like you.
There will never be another one
Who can do the things you do, oh!
Will you give another chance?
Will you try a little try?
Please stop and you'll remember
We were together, anyway… All right!
"Transparency and the rule of law will be the touchstones of this presidency."
How you must of think and wondered,
How I must feel
Out on the meadows
While you're on the field?
I'm alone for you, and I cry.
Again from Dreams of My Father:"Was the collaboration of some slaves any different than the silence of some Iranians who stood by and did nothing as Savak thugs murdered and tortured opponents of the Shah? How could we judge other men until we had stood in their shoes?"
He's sweatin', look at him…
Actually President Obama keeps it pretty cool. It's really his touchstone. The man doesn't let much get to him and believe me that is hard because ignorance and violence go together in this country like the Anglos and the Saxons.
Optical promise…
You think it's easy coming up with this shit? Okay Jim, optical promise. Now can we get back to future President Obama?
(Heh, heh, heh.)
Maybe he meant to say optimal pilsner? That would be more like Jim. That's a Jim, I understand.
You'll be dead and in hell before I'm born…
Yeah I'm going with optimal pilsner.
Sure thing…
Exactly Jim.
Bridesmaid…
Okay, Bridegroom.
The only solution —
Isn't it amazing?
It is Jim for you to have predicted and engaged in one of your imitable Q & A's with our future president is amazing.
Friday, January 23, 2009
“Reports from the Civilian Crossing Guard Committee”
When they stumbled on a way to really take back the streets
both Brian and Dave had been drinking, heavily for most of the afternoon. It was one of those sessions that began as a simple stop off on their way some place and turned into a full bore think tank collaborative, their final destination long forgotten. Both drank lager, many, many pints of lager as is usually the case for men with a big hunger and thirst for life.
They had decided collectively after the third or fourth pitcher had been drained that their lives were wholly without purpose or meaning. It was something they uncovered accidently and without realizing the magnitude of their discovery. It wasn’t as though each began to beat his chest and bemoan the state of his life with sad, string-based orchestral music playing in the background and faraway looks in their eyes. Each was unemployed and therefore without a daily purpose in the typical cog in the faceless machine sense. Also, neither was particularly desirous of getting a job (both were more than sufficiently suspicious of the capitalist system or at least the part of it that deemed they be productive members of society) they decided that their search for meaning would have to be conducted outside the doors of polite society. There was little for them in the offices and cubicles of the rest of the working world, this was something they knew without ever having to go to an office or even see a cubicle. It wasn’t like they talked about meaning and purpose, per say. They just decided that they could do more for their city and their fellow men than they had been doing so far in their lives. Since neither had a car and viewed the car with the same kind jaundiced eye with which they examined the rest of the capitalist system, it seemed only natural that they figure out a way to mitigate the automobile’s influence on the lives of their fellow citizens.
More pitchers were drained. Plans expanded and expounded upon. A round of pool was played, passably, though neither was much good at it. A game of darts was begun and abandoned without a satisfactory conclusion. Discussions grew animated and acrimonious which was odd as Dave and Brian were in general agreement about what to do. The how to do it was what generated the hottest of these heated discussions. By the end of the night, both were feeling bloated, bleary eyes and quite creased when the bartender, after being subjected to their planning for more than nine hours, suggested they keep a running diary of their encounters with discourteous motorists. Neither Dave nor Brian was in any shape to argue with the man. He even offered to post some of the diary entries on a bulletin board in the bar to warn fellow pedestrians. Truthfully, the bartender was just trying to get them to shut up and never thought they’d remember his promise.
Wednesday, June 21st 9:30 PM (approx.), corner of Lex and S.Hunnigton: Brian writes that he is nearly run over by a Buick as he stops traffic coming W, it allows two females to cross unharmed, driver calls Brian “fucktard.”
Wednesday, June 21st 10:04 PM, cross walk on 400 block of LaFrene: Dave reports many horns honking as he stops traffic for two females and one male, male reportedly calls Dave “chief” and thanks him, the females ignore him completely.
Wednesday, June 21st 11:38 PM, cross walk outside of Lane’s Lounge @ 1st and Crumm: Dave helps two male patrons across by stopping N bound traffic.
Wednesday, June 21st 11:45 PM (approx.) corner of Villane and S.Hunnington: Brian holds ‘walk’ button for five consecutive minutes (approx.) light does not change, he proceeds to try and open up electric panel on light post, Brian reports feeling light shock move up his arm. He leaves half burnt screwdriver at the scene.
Wednesday, June 21st 11:48 PM, crosswalk outside Lane’s Lounge @ 1st and Crumm: Dave reports low traffic volume, continues to inspect traffic for another 5-7 minutes on his official cigarette break.
Wednesday, June 21st 11:59 PM, crosswalk outside Lane’s Lounge @ 1st and Crumm: Dave stops both N and S traffic allowing male pedestrian to cross the street, male pedestrian turns out to be Brian who reports that his watch is broken.
Thursday, June 22nd 12:03 AM: Operations officially cease for the day.
Thursday, June 22nd 8:15 AM (approx.) corner of Lex and Wilson: Brian stops heavy traffic from both W and E so two elderly females can cross, blaring horns and several middle fingers were reported as responses.
Thursday, June 22nd 8:30 AM (approx.) corner of Lex and Wilson:
Brian stops traffic from both W and E so that a male on a bike can cross, a police car was among the stopped cars coming from the W, one of the officers asked Brian if he had a “job.”
Thursday, June 22nd 9 AM (approx.) corner of Lex and Wilson:
Brian reports being hassled about his sash and plastic badge by a couple of neighborhood kids, they refer to him as a “fucktard.”
Thursday, June 22nd 9:11 (approx.) 121 Wilson St: Brian reports finding lost watch in lost and found box at Java Joe’s. He considers it similar enough to his to keep.
When they stumbled on a way to really take back the streets
both Brian and Dave had been drinking, heavily for most of the afternoon. It was one of those sessions that began as a simple stop off on their way some place and turned into a full bore think tank collaborative, their final destination long forgotten. Both drank lager, many, many pints of lager as is usually the case for men with a big hunger and thirst for life.
They had decided collectively after the third or fourth pitcher had been drained that their lives were wholly without purpose or meaning. It was something they uncovered accidently and without realizing the magnitude of their discovery. It wasn’t as though each began to beat his chest and bemoan the state of his life with sad, string-based orchestral music playing in the background and faraway looks in their eyes. Each was unemployed and therefore without a daily purpose in the typical cog in the faceless machine sense. Also, neither was particularly desirous of getting a job (both were more than sufficiently suspicious of the capitalist system or at least the part of it that deemed they be productive members of society) they decided that their search for meaning would have to be conducted outside the doors of polite society. There was little for them in the offices and cubicles of the rest of the working world, this was something they knew without ever having to go to an office or even see a cubicle. It wasn’t like they talked about meaning and purpose, per say. They just decided that they could do more for their city and their fellow men than they had been doing so far in their lives. Since neither had a car and viewed the car with the same kind jaundiced eye with which they examined the rest of the capitalist system, it seemed only natural that they figure out a way to mitigate the automobile’s influence on the lives of their fellow citizens.
More pitchers were drained. Plans expanded and expounded upon. A round of pool was played, passably, though neither was much good at it. A game of darts was begun and abandoned without a satisfactory conclusion. Discussions grew animated and acrimonious which was odd as Dave and Brian were in general agreement about what to do. The how to do it was what generated the hottest of these heated discussions. By the end of the night, both were feeling bloated, bleary eyes and quite creased when the bartender, after being subjected to their planning for more than nine hours, suggested they keep a running diary of their encounters with discourteous motorists. Neither Dave nor Brian was in any shape to argue with the man. He even offered to post some of the diary entries on a bulletin board in the bar to warn fellow pedestrians. Truthfully, the bartender was just trying to get them to shut up and never thought they’d remember his promise.
Wednesday, June 21st 9:30 PM (approx.), corner of Lex and S.Hunnigton: Brian writes that he is nearly run over by a Buick as he stops traffic coming W, it allows two females to cross unharmed, driver calls Brian “fucktard.”
Wednesday, June 21st 10:04 PM, cross walk on 400 block of LaFrene: Dave reports many horns honking as he stops traffic for two females and one male, male reportedly calls Dave “chief” and thanks him, the females ignore him completely.
Wednesday, June 21st 11:38 PM, cross walk outside of Lane’s Lounge @ 1st and Crumm: Dave helps two male patrons across by stopping N bound traffic.
Wednesday, June 21st 11:45 PM (approx.) corner of Villane and S.Hunnington: Brian holds ‘walk’ button for five consecutive minutes (approx.) light does not change, he proceeds to try and open up electric panel on light post, Brian reports feeling light shock move up his arm. He leaves half burnt screwdriver at the scene.
Wednesday, June 21st 11:48 PM, crosswalk outside Lane’s Lounge @ 1st and Crumm: Dave reports low traffic volume, continues to inspect traffic for another 5-7 minutes on his official cigarette break.
Wednesday, June 21st 11:59 PM, crosswalk outside Lane’s Lounge @ 1st and Crumm: Dave stops both N and S traffic allowing male pedestrian to cross the street, male pedestrian turns out to be Brian who reports that his watch is broken.
Thursday, June 22nd 12:03 AM: Operations officially cease for the day.
Thursday, June 22nd 8:15 AM (approx.) corner of Lex and Wilson: Brian stops heavy traffic from both W and E so two elderly females can cross, blaring horns and several middle fingers were reported as responses.
Thursday, June 22nd 8:30 AM (approx.) corner of Lex and Wilson:
Brian stops traffic from both W and E so that a male on a bike can cross, a police car was among the stopped cars coming from the W, one of the officers asked Brian if he had a “job.”
Thursday, June 22nd 9 AM (approx.) corner of Lex and Wilson:
Brian reports being hassled about his sash and plastic badge by a couple of neighborhood kids, they refer to him as a “fucktard.”
Thursday, June 22nd 9:11 (approx.) 121 Wilson St: Brian reports finding lost watch in lost and found box at Java Joe’s. He considers it similar enough to his to keep.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
How The Album "The Soft Parade" by the Doors Explains The Entire History of Mankind
This long neglected and admittedly flawed masterpiece by the Doors is one of my favorite albums of all time. True, it does contain Runnin' Blues featuring the unfortunate vocal stylings of one Mr. Robbie Krieger but hey the Doors put out a lot of albums in a short time; the occasional embarrassing mistake can be overlooked. The album also features some of the finest examples of what can best be called "Drunken Karaoke Jim Morrison" as well as the always competent back beat of John Densmore and enough keyboard work from Ray Manzarek to make you almost forget he thinks the entire concept of the sixties danced across his keyboard exclusively. Clocking in at a little over thirty minutes, it may appear at first to be a meager slice. But dig more deeply into the amplified weirdness, the use of brass instruments and lyrics that are somehow wistful and nihilistic at the same time and you will find a singular work of art one who's beauty is incomplete making it ripe for further examination. "The Soft Parade" is a coded message. A note on a scroll rolled up, placed in a bottle and allowed to drift across the decades.Reflected through the prism of its singularity, it might be possible to achieve a greater understanding of the universe and man's place in it.
Shall we try together?
Part One: Man Attempts to Conquer Nature (The Soft Parade)
The title track begins with Morrison shouting. His whiskey caked voice full of despair. He decries the distance at which God operates. There is no music yet, just one insignificant soul crying out in the wilderness.
"When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!"
This gives way to a haunting dose of clavichord tinged chamber music transporting the listener back in time. Morrison's lyrics take us back even further to our primitive ancestor's quest for shelter.
Can you give me sanctuary?
I must find a place to hide,
A place for me to hide.
Can you find me soft asylum?
I can't make it anymore
The Man is at the door.
This brings an abrupt change to the music indicating perhaps that no sooner had sanctuary been found then it was shattered. In this case, The Man may embody progress as the organ sound morphs from gentle clavichord to a more loungish Wurlitzer sound. And Caveman Morrison finds himself assaulted by the suddenness of the modern world.
Peppermint, miniskirts, chocolate candy,
Champion sax and a girl named Sandy
There's only four ways to get unraveled —
One is to sleep and the other is travel at dawn.
One is a bandit up in the hills,
Then, to lighten the proceedings, Morrison makes a crude joke that leaves one to wonder how much bigger a star a pansexual Jim Morrison might have been.
One is to love your neighbor till
His wife gets home.
Again led by Manzarek's organ, the tone shifts becoming playful, delicate, even a little silly. The lyrics take us once more from the primitive shelter of the caves to the modern streets of LA.
Catacombs,
Nursery bones,
Winter women
Growing stones,
Carrying babies
To the river;
Streets and shoes,
Avenues,
Leather riders
Selling news,
This leads us to the combining of the mundane and the spiritual.
The monk bought Lunch.
With real vigor and determination music begins to build and funk itself in new directions. The monk, by buying lunch, has proven that man's spiritual quest need take him no further than a taco stand on South La Brea Avenue. Now through the magic of Paul Rothchild's producing, we encounter three distinct Morrison's: Caveman Morrison, Jim Morrison and Acid Causality Morrison. They act as a Greek chorus while the music is building and in their confused utterances, we see man's confusion as he confronts the ineffable conditions imposed by nature.
He he he, he bought a little.
Yes, he did
Woo!
This is the best part of the trip.
This is the trip, the best part
I really like it.
What'd he say?
Yeah!
Yeah, right!
Pretty good, huh
Huh!
Yeah, I'm proud to be a part of this number!
As the music begins to even out and relax itself into quite a palatable groove, the logic behind the lyrics also suggests relaxation or at least acceptance.
Successful hills are here to stay,
Everything must be this way.
Gentle streets where people play,
Welcome to the Soft Parade.
All our lives we sweat and save,
Building for a shallow grave.
“Must be something else”, we say
“Somehow to defend this place.”
Everything must be this way,
Everything must be this way, yeah. Aah, yeah!
In a slight listing tonal shift, it begins to change direction again but more slowly, less suddenly than before. The lyrics also begin to slide as the mechanized and natural world meet, it becomes clear that we all march in "The Soft Parade."
The Soft Parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum.
People out to have some fun,
Cobra on my left,
Leopard on my right, yeah.
Deer woman in a silk dress,
Girls with beads around their necks,
Kiss the hunter of the green vest
Who has wrestled before
With lions in the night.
Out of sight!
The lights are getting brighter,
The radio is moaning,
Calling to the dogs.
There are still a few animals
Left out in the yard,
But it's getting harder
To describe sailors
To the underfed.
Now those three Morrison's return as the song winds down. They argue about man's place in nature but seem content not to learn the answer.
Tropic corridor,
Tropic treasure,
What got us this far,
To this mild equator?
We need someone or something new,
Something else to get us through, yeah. C'mon!
Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' on the dogs,
But it's gettin' harder Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' in the dogs,
Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' on the gods.
You gotta
Meet me Too late, baby!
Shoot a few animals аt the crossroads Too late!
let out in the yard.
But it's getting harder Whoa!
Gotta meet me You’ve done great, hey!
at the edge of town, Having a good time.
You’d better come along
outskirts of the city Let’s fun!
Just you and I
and the evening sky. We are so alone.
Better bring your gun You’d better come along.
You’d better bring your gun.
We’re gonna have some fun!
Tropic corridor
Tropic treasure.
As the music fades, one whispered voice suggests that man can only conquer nature one beast at a time. It is hardly a solution but like an philosophical quest, there are only questions and compromises never real solutions.
“When all else fails,
We can whip the horse's
Eyes and make them sleep
and cry.”
This long neglected and admittedly flawed masterpiece by the Doors is one of my favorite albums of all time. True, it does contain Runnin' Blues featuring the unfortunate vocal stylings of one Mr. Robbie Krieger but hey the Doors put out a lot of albums in a short time; the occasional embarrassing mistake can be overlooked. The album also features some of the finest examples of what can best be called "Drunken Karaoke Jim Morrison" as well as the always competent back beat of John Densmore and enough keyboard work from Ray Manzarek to make you almost forget he thinks the entire concept of the sixties danced across his keyboard exclusively. Clocking in at a little over thirty minutes, it may appear at first to be a meager slice. But dig more deeply into the amplified weirdness, the use of brass instruments and lyrics that are somehow wistful and nihilistic at the same time and you will find a singular work of art one who's beauty is incomplete making it ripe for further examination. "The Soft Parade" is a coded message. A note on a scroll rolled up, placed in a bottle and allowed to drift across the decades.Reflected through the prism of its singularity, it might be possible to achieve a greater understanding of the universe and man's place in it.
Shall we try together?
Part One: Man Attempts to Conquer Nature (The Soft Parade)
The title track begins with Morrison shouting. His whiskey caked voice full of despair. He decries the distance at which God operates. There is no music yet, just one insignificant soul crying out in the wilderness.
"When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!"
This gives way to a haunting dose of clavichord tinged chamber music transporting the listener back in time. Morrison's lyrics take us back even further to our primitive ancestor's quest for shelter.
Can you give me sanctuary?
I must find a place to hide,
A place for me to hide.
Can you find me soft asylum?
I can't make it anymore
The Man is at the door.
This brings an abrupt change to the music indicating perhaps that no sooner had sanctuary been found then it was shattered. In this case, The Man may embody progress as the organ sound morphs from gentle clavichord to a more loungish Wurlitzer sound. And Caveman Morrison finds himself assaulted by the suddenness of the modern world.
Peppermint, miniskirts, chocolate candy,
Champion sax and a girl named Sandy
There's only four ways to get unraveled —
One is to sleep and the other is travel at dawn.
One is a bandit up in the hills,
Then, to lighten the proceedings, Morrison makes a crude joke that leaves one to wonder how much bigger a star a pansexual Jim Morrison might have been.
One is to love your neighbor till
His wife gets home.
Again led by Manzarek's organ, the tone shifts becoming playful, delicate, even a little silly. The lyrics take us once more from the primitive shelter of the caves to the modern streets of LA.
Catacombs,
Nursery bones,
Winter women
Growing stones,
Carrying babies
To the river;
Streets and shoes,
Avenues,
Leather riders
Selling news,
This leads us to the combining of the mundane and the spiritual.
The monk bought Lunch.
With real vigor and determination music begins to build and funk itself in new directions. The monk, by buying lunch, has proven that man's spiritual quest need take him no further than a taco stand on South La Brea Avenue. Now through the magic of Paul Rothchild's producing, we encounter three distinct Morrison's: Caveman Morrison, Jim Morrison and Acid Causality Morrison. They act as a Greek chorus while the music is building and in their confused utterances, we see man's confusion as he confronts the ineffable conditions imposed by nature.
He he he, he bought a little.
Yes, he did
Woo!
This is the best part of the trip.
This is the trip, the best part
I really like it.
What'd he say?
Yeah!
Yeah, right!
Pretty good, huh
Huh!
Yeah, I'm proud to be a part of this number!
As the music begins to even out and relax itself into quite a palatable groove, the logic behind the lyrics also suggests relaxation or at least acceptance.
Successful hills are here to stay,
Everything must be this way.
Gentle streets where people play,
Welcome to the Soft Parade.
All our lives we sweat and save,
Building for a shallow grave.
“Must be something else”, we say
“Somehow to defend this place.”
Everything must be this way,
Everything must be this way, yeah. Aah, yeah!
In a slight listing tonal shift, it begins to change direction again but more slowly, less suddenly than before. The lyrics also begin to slide as the mechanized and natural world meet, it becomes clear that we all march in "The Soft Parade."
The Soft Parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum.
People out to have some fun,
Cobra on my left,
Leopard on my right, yeah.
Deer woman in a silk dress,
Girls with beads around their necks,
Kiss the hunter of the green vest
Who has wrestled before
With lions in the night.
Out of sight!
The lights are getting brighter,
The radio is moaning,
Calling to the dogs.
There are still a few animals
Left out in the yard,
But it's getting harder
To describe sailors
To the underfed.
Now those three Morrison's return as the song winds down. They argue about man's place in nature but seem content not to learn the answer.
Tropic corridor,
Tropic treasure,
What got us this far,
To this mild equator?
We need someone or something new,
Something else to get us through, yeah. C'mon!
Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' on the dogs,
But it's gettin' harder Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' in the dogs,
Callin' on the dogs,
Callin' on the gods.
You gotta
Meet me Too late, baby!
Shoot a few animals аt the crossroads Too late!
let out in the yard.
But it's getting harder Whoa!
Gotta meet me You’ve done great, hey!
at the edge of town, Having a good time.
You’d better come along
outskirts of the city Let’s fun!
Just you and I
and the evening sky. We are so alone.
Better bring your gun You’d better come along.
You’d better bring your gun.
We’re gonna have some fun!
Tropic corridor
Tropic treasure.
As the music fades, one whispered voice suggests that man can only conquer nature one beast at a time. It is hardly a solution but like an philosophical quest, there are only questions and compromises never real solutions.
“When all else fails,
We can whip the horse's
Eyes and make them sleep
and cry.”
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Innumerable Sightings of Edwards
before contact with Egypt
she had no idea she was a surrealist
Adrift in an era of fading tradition and increasing lawlessness
watching as a chance heckle or slip of the tongue inflates into a full-blown nonsense fantasy
she posed women poised against the sky with their children,
women planted like trees in the mother earth,
raggle-taggle families of tinkers and wanderers
she had had nightmares about their conflicts for many years
All of these are just objects now, dead, encased
as ancient as the decaying sand faces of the rulers
Over the years, innumerable sightings of Edwards
have proved to be thoroughly and tastefully unfounded
before working in a mental hospital, he photographed incoming patients
Nothing could be further from his grim, grey 1933 mural
transposed to a world of strong light, intense color and heat
at home in Lincolnshire and he played a slow, mournful tune
things looked bleak, the old man's changes gave her no hope
basking in the tide of international goodwill, she can’t say why
a hangover from their days in religious meeting house
other women and other women's children behaved in cruel ways
The outcome of this process presented a clear choice
amalgamated with its similarly struggling rival, the Playhouse
a literary policy was put in place with mysticism and its connection with the very soil
the only one who can lay undoubted claim to the life and times of the composer
or interpreted to shore it up
before contact with Egypt
she had no idea she was a surrealist
Adrift in an era of fading tradition and increasing lawlessness
watching as a chance heckle or slip of the tongue inflates into a full-blown nonsense fantasy
she posed women poised against the sky with their children,
women planted like trees in the mother earth,
raggle-taggle families of tinkers and wanderers
she had had nightmares about their conflicts for many years
All of these are just objects now, dead, encased
as ancient as the decaying sand faces of the rulers
Over the years, innumerable sightings of Edwards
have proved to be thoroughly and tastefully unfounded
before working in a mental hospital, he photographed incoming patients
Nothing could be further from his grim, grey 1933 mural
transposed to a world of strong light, intense color and heat
at home in Lincolnshire and he played a slow, mournful tune
things looked bleak, the old man's changes gave her no hope
basking in the tide of international goodwill, she can’t say why
a hangover from their days in religious meeting house
other women and other women's children behaved in cruel ways
The outcome of this process presented a clear choice
amalgamated with its similarly struggling rival, the Playhouse
a literary policy was put in place with mysticism and its connection with the very soil
the only one who can lay undoubted claim to the life and times of the composer
or interpreted to shore it up
Friday, June 27, 2008
new to Snackcar, first in a series called "Shit Nobody Really Likes All That Much"
ITEM#1 THE CLASH
Found myself browsing through a book of CD’s burned for me by various friends the other day and noted that I had accumulated no less than 3 copies of the rumored classic London Calling by the Clash, aka “the only band that matters.” Why 3 copies? Because I’ve developed the admittedly foolish habit of letting it slip in mixed (and often mastered company) that I really don’t like The Clash. This is met with what can only be called flaming incredulity. They hiss, they jibe, they stomp. I am assailed with inquiries into my sanity, my taste level, my intelligence, even, rather unkindly, the circumstances surrounding my birth. Somehow, I withstand the assault and calmly state that I am not, in fact, a crazy mongoloid bastard. I simply find their music a touch boring. And then I prepare for the usual, ‘you have to listen to London Calling.’ When I again state that I have tried to listen but that it just didn’t touch me, they force a copy into my hands. So I go home and try again with the same result.
I feel as though I’ve let my friends down, disappointed them with my inability to force myself into a state of blissful admiration for music that fails to hold my ear. Those friends, those self-avowed, if I may coin a phrase, had expanded my rather meager range and turned me on to all of the bands guys who aren’t getting regular sex have the time to check out. For me, it’s a bit of Top 40 radio after a good session of the ole slap and tickle but that’s a story for another time. One day as I tried for the sixth or seventh time not to fast forward through “Jimmy Jazz” or “Hateful” it occurred to me, I’d listened to hundreds of hours of music with these chaps and never once did we listen to The Clash. Even when they rose to meet my challenge by burning a CD, they didn’t rush to the stereo to put the album on, as they had done with other bands.
Could it be that no one really listens to the Clash? No, I told myself, you’re mad.
So like a good social scientist, I began to ask everyone who I met and spoke with at all about music about the Clash. Again and again, I was told they were great, stupendous, “the only band that matters.” When I inquired after their listening habits regarding the band, the Clasholytes (is it catching on yet?) were much more evasive. Answers ranged from ‘not for awhile but I used to listen to them all the time in high school’ (poor lying bastard, ever notice how much stuff people claim they used to do in high school as a way of explaining their refusal to do something in the present?) to the deliciously vague ‘a couple of months ago.’ No one it seemed had just listened to them in the car on the ride over to wherever we were or had spent all last night listening to The Clash as they bathed in patchouli or had partied with all of their Clash friends at an all night Clashfest anytime in the recent past. And I surveyed people far and wide, though truth be told I don’t know too many old timey punk rockers so I may have missed the proper demographic entirely. (Who wants to hang around with a punch of tattooed delusionals anyway?) Still, it’s odd. I invite you to try it on your music friends. Ask them if they like the Clash. I’m guessing they’ll say yes. Then ask them when was the last time they listened to the Clash. If my study is any indication, their answers will be as vague as the band’s appeal.
ITEM#1 THE CLASH
Found myself browsing through a book of CD’s burned for me by various friends the other day and noted that I had accumulated no less than 3 copies of the rumored classic London Calling by the Clash, aka “the only band that matters.” Why 3 copies? Because I’ve developed the admittedly foolish habit of letting it slip in mixed (and often mastered company) that I really don’t like The Clash. This is met with what can only be called flaming incredulity. They hiss, they jibe, they stomp. I am assailed with inquiries into my sanity, my taste level, my intelligence, even, rather unkindly, the circumstances surrounding my birth. Somehow, I withstand the assault and calmly state that I am not, in fact, a crazy mongoloid bastard. I simply find their music a touch boring. And then I prepare for the usual, ‘you have to listen to London Calling.’ When I again state that I have tried to listen but that it just didn’t touch me, they force a copy into my hands. So I go home and try again with the same result.
I feel as though I’ve let my friends down, disappointed them with my inability to force myself into a state of blissful admiration for music that fails to hold my ear. Those friends, those self-avowed, if I may coin a phrase, had expanded my rather meager range and turned me on to all of the bands guys who aren’t getting regular sex have the time to check out. For me, it’s a bit of Top 40 radio after a good session of the ole slap and tickle but that’s a story for another time. One day as I tried for the sixth or seventh time not to fast forward through “Jimmy Jazz” or “Hateful” it occurred to me, I’d listened to hundreds of hours of music with these chaps and never once did we listen to The Clash. Even when they rose to meet my challenge by burning a CD, they didn’t rush to the stereo to put the album on, as they had done with other bands.
Could it be that no one really listens to the Clash? No, I told myself, you’re mad.
So like a good social scientist, I began to ask everyone who I met and spoke with at all about music about the Clash. Again and again, I was told they were great, stupendous, “the only band that matters.” When I inquired after their listening habits regarding the band, the Clasholytes (is it catching on yet?) were much more evasive. Answers ranged from ‘not for awhile but I used to listen to them all the time in high school’ (poor lying bastard, ever notice how much stuff people claim they used to do in high school as a way of explaining their refusal to do something in the present?) to the deliciously vague ‘a couple of months ago.’ No one it seemed had just listened to them in the car on the ride over to wherever we were or had spent all last night listening to The Clash as they bathed in patchouli or had partied with all of their Clash friends at an all night Clashfest anytime in the recent past. And I surveyed people far and wide, though truth be told I don’t know too many old timey punk rockers so I may have missed the proper demographic entirely. (Who wants to hang around with a punch of tattooed delusionals anyway?) Still, it’s odd. I invite you to try it on your music friends. Ask them if they like the Clash. I’m guessing they’ll say yes. Then ask them when was the last time they listened to the Clash. If my study is any indication, their answers will be as vague as the band’s appeal.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Odd to be back here
54 hours stuck in traffic
where the refugees could face death
inside the compound
A California couple has created a mini-savannah—replete with zebras, giraffes, cheetahs, and other African animals
the father who murdered his mother skipped school on Tuesday,
spoke on condition of anonymity
his words echoed eternally in the famous war photo
of the soldier who decoded the coffee bean’s genes
societies are trying to arrange housing for thousands
in the port city
a sea change in the apparent industry
driven by a return of investor appetite
united their families' different faiths
their slaves are adjusting to life
described as doing well today, breathing on their own as they recovers from an operation to unite
indigenous communities along the jungle river
the mother sells their artwork to fund continued school programs for the youngsters
The plan is not without controversy, as some locals claim she is only selling her own
photos of sights around the city
that zoom in on patients' eyes and bellies
Odd to be back here
54 hours stuck in traffic
where the refugees could face death
inside the compound
A California couple has created a mini-savannah—replete with zebras, giraffes, cheetahs, and other African animals
the father who murdered his mother skipped school on Tuesday,
spoke on condition of anonymity
his words echoed eternally in the famous war photo
of the soldier who decoded the coffee bean’s genes
societies are trying to arrange housing for thousands
in the port city
a sea change in the apparent industry
driven by a return of investor appetite
united their families' different faiths
their slaves are adjusting to life
described as doing well today, breathing on their own as they recovers from an operation to unite
indigenous communities along the jungle river
the mother sells their artwork to fund continued school programs for the youngsters
The plan is not without controversy, as some locals claim she is only selling her own
photos of sights around the city
that zoom in on patients' eyes and bellies
Odd to be back here
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Newport Preservation Society
the frosted electric light bulb,
lone decoration on a Christmas tree
a trailer truck east of New Orleans
heard about the place from acquaintances who grew up in the neighborhood
officials of the agency who are in a position
to rededicate themselves in Creole
developing natural language,
the rules for communications paid off for even those who couldn’t follow
I am writing this in the middle of a heat wave
there were from time to time, instances in which the modem would lose itself
Baghdad in April showed at bottom the potential for class unity
Be sure to understand what resolution to meet your needs
live music and outlandish cocktails at this trendy nightspot high atop
a light-filled space from where visitors can orient themselves
generally better than the original Newport Preservation Society
they could have memorable pictures
the frosted electric light bulb,
lone decoration on a Christmas tree
a trailer truck east of New Orleans
heard about the place from acquaintances who grew up in the neighborhood
officials of the agency who are in a position
to rededicate themselves in Creole
developing natural language,
the rules for communications paid off for even those who couldn’t follow
I am writing this in the middle of a heat wave
there were from time to time, instances in which the modem would lose itself
Baghdad in April showed at bottom the potential for class unity
Be sure to understand what resolution to meet your needs
live music and outlandish cocktails at this trendy nightspot high atop
a light-filled space from where visitors can orient themselves
generally better than the original Newport Preservation Society
they could have memorable pictures
Monday, April 28, 2008
Monday, April 07, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Monday, March 31, 2008
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
ALGHANIM SONS LOAN ® Funds 2007 Series.
SAFAT 13097
KUWAITEMAIL: alghanimsons_loan@kuwaiti.tv
www.alghanimsons.com
Come to Kuwait & borrow with Confidence.
Dear Sir/Madam
The ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO. enjoys a powerful position that epitomizes the strategic command enjoyed by the Kuwaiti nation. Just as Kuwait benefits from a pivotal place at the head of the Arabian Gulf, with a unique role in relationships, politics, trade and influence within the region, ALGHANIM SONS has a pivotal role in Kuwaiti society and economy.
Today, ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO. KUWAIT is pleased to announce to individuals, company owners, Investors, private and public enterprises that the interim distribution for all of the ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO.® Funds 2007 Series is now made available for all loan seekers. We have received several requests from different individuals, companies and investors from different parts of the world indicating that they would like to receive distributions/ loans to achieve their goals.
Whether you are planning on a few thousand US dollars or many million dollars Project, ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO.® Funds has the resources and expertise necessary to create a loan package that will leave you satisfied.
Are you an Individual, Company Owner or Investors who want to build wealth by borrowing to invest in shares, property or other assets? Whether you want to invest without all the risks, or accelerate your wealth by leveraging your investments, ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO.® Funds range of investment loans can help.
If you need money for loan right now, or you own a commercial property or not, but either you or your company is losing money or your credit is poor, you can still easily obtain a loan from ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO.® fund. You can apply to our stock broker.
ALGHANIM SONS LOAN ® Funds 2007 Series.
SAFAT 13097
KUWAITEMAIL: alghanimsons_loan@kuwaiti.tv
www.alghanimsons.com
We offer loans of any amount you want. We aim to have customers that will continue to enjoy working with us year in and year out, and our competitive rates and customer service reflects that. We will our hardest to structure your financing to meet your needs. Our small business mentality allows us to really take the time to get the big picture about your business and get you the loans and the rates you are looking for.
We are pleased that we will be able to make this distribution to release funds for all investors this year and, as we expect that all of the underlying investments that requires the Funds will be realized.
We finance Commercial Deals and Earn Your Business If Your Bank Won’t Do it, we will.
Warm Regards and best of luck,
Mr. Sabah Ahmad Al-ghanim.
SAFAT 13097
KUWAIT
**********************************************************************************************************"*****************
Alghanim sons loan company's goal is to create value for its clients. The key feature of our approach is constant focus on the financial services for our client segments.
SAFAT 13097
KUWAITEMAIL: alghanimsons_loan@kuwaiti.tv
www.alghanimsons.com
Come to Kuwait & borrow with Confidence.
Dear Sir/Madam
The ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO. enjoys a powerful position that epitomizes the strategic command enjoyed by the Kuwaiti nation. Just as Kuwait benefits from a pivotal place at the head of the Arabian Gulf, with a unique role in relationships, politics, trade and influence within the region, ALGHANIM SONS has a pivotal role in Kuwaiti society and economy.
Today, ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO. KUWAIT is pleased to announce to individuals, company owners, Investors, private and public enterprises that the interim distribution for all of the ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO.® Funds 2007 Series is now made available for all loan seekers. We have received several requests from different individuals, companies and investors from different parts of the world indicating that they would like to receive distributions/ loans to achieve their goals.
Whether you are planning on a few thousand US dollars or many million dollars Project, ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO.® Funds has the resources and expertise necessary to create a loan package that will leave you satisfied.
Are you an Individual, Company Owner or Investors who want to build wealth by borrowing to invest in shares, property or other assets? Whether you want to invest without all the risks, or accelerate your wealth by leveraging your investments, ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO.® Funds range of investment loans can help.
If you need money for loan right now, or you own a commercial property or not, but either you or your company is losing money or your credit is poor, you can still easily obtain a loan from ALGHANIM SONS GROUP CO.® fund. You can apply to our stock broker.
ALGHANIM SONS LOAN ® Funds 2007 Series.
SAFAT 13097
KUWAITEMAIL: alghanimsons_loan@kuwaiti.tv
www.alghanimsons.com
We offer loans of any amount you want. We aim to have customers that will continue to enjoy working with us year in and year out, and our competitive rates and customer service reflects that. We will our hardest to structure your financing to meet your needs. Our small business mentality allows us to really take the time to get the big picture about your business and get you the loans and the rates you are looking for.
We are pleased that we will be able to make this distribution to release funds for all investors this year and, as we expect that all of the underlying investments that requires the Funds will be realized.
We finance Commercial Deals and Earn Your Business If Your Bank Won’t Do it, we will.
Warm Regards and best of luck,
Mr. Sabah Ahmad Al-ghanim.
SAFAT 13097
KUWAIT
**********************************************************************************************************"*****************
Alghanim sons loan company's goal is to create value for its clients. The key feature of our approach is constant focus on the financial services for our client segments.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
What Is It In Euros Though?
Uk Lottery Board
PROMOTIONS/PRIZE AWARD DEPARTMENT.
60 Merriman Road
Blackheath
London SE3 8RZ
England.
Dear Winner,
CONSOLATION WINNER NOTICE
We wish to congratulate and inform you on the selection of your email coupon number which was selected among the 6 lucky consolation prize winners Your email ID identified with coupon No. PBL2348974321 and was selected by our E-games Random Selection System (ERSS) with entries from the 50,000 different email addresses enrolled for the E-game.you have been awarded the sum of (ฃ2,600,000)You are to contact the claims agent with the following details for the release of your winnings.
Claims Requirements:
1.Name in full: Roman V. Lelefski
2.Home Address: A Lady never asks
3.Age: see Above
4.Occupation: What's it look like?
5.Phone Number: None
6.Present Country: None
7.Sex: Not nearly often enough
Overseas Claims Unit
United Kingdom Lottery Fiduciary
Contact Person: Mr. Macdanny Cole
Contact E-mail: gmksslotts@hotmail.com
Regards,
Mrs. Monical Walter
(Group Coordinator)
Uk Lottery Board
PROMOTIONS/PRIZE AWARD DEPARTMENT.
60 Merriman Road
Blackheath
London SE3 8RZ
England.
Dear Winner,
CONSOLATION WINNER NOTICE
We wish to congratulate and inform you on the selection of your email coupon number which was selected among the 6 lucky consolation prize winners Your email ID identified with coupon No. PBL2348974321 and was selected by our E-games Random Selection System (ERSS) with entries from the 50,000 different email addresses enrolled for the E-game.you have been awarded the sum of (ฃ2,600,000)You are to contact the claims agent with the following details for the release of your winnings.
Claims Requirements:
1.Name in full: Roman V. Lelefski
2.Home Address: A Lady never asks
3.Age: see Above
4.Occupation: What's it look like?
5.Phone Number: None
6.Present Country: None
7.Sex: Not nearly often enough
Overseas Claims Unit
United Kingdom Lottery Fiduciary
Contact Person: Mr. Macdanny Cole
Contact E-mail: gmksslotts@hotmail.com
Regards,
Mrs. Monical Walter
(Group Coordinator)
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