Showing posts with label lyrics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lyrics. Show all posts
Friday, July 17, 2009
Sunday, August 24, 2008
I wrote about "rock poetry" a few years ago, with no success - not even I understand just what my position was at the time. I'd like to make a quick observation on the matter now that some time has passed. My stance now is strongly inspired by Christgau's: namely, that the function of lyrics is rather different than that of a poem, as the latter is meant to be read, the former to be sung. Good lyrics can often seem unusually flat when quoted, the words themselves sans musical context somehow seeming not as bright as when heard. Their general inability to translate strongly to the pure page shouldn't be taken as a negative pronouncement on the form, I think: it's just that lyrics (obviously) rely on their medium to convey emotion, and so comparisons to classical poetry are unfair. I understand what people mean when they call gifted songwriters "poets" - the meaning of the word has somewhat shifted I suppose - but taking it too literally can lead to confusion and crises of confidence (I speak from experience!). It's a different form, and has different methods of making you feel something. So, assessing the worth of a songwriter is necessarily more complex than simply comparing his writing to that of poets past - for there are few who could rise to such a challenge.
As always, this view is subject to change as well, but the issue was bothering me for a while now. I never knew mimicking Christgau was such an easy option!
As always, this view is subject to change as well, but the issue was bothering me for a while now. I never knew mimicking Christgau was such an easy option!
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
When I first came to town
I should be a bit more careful writing stuff like this, expecting everything will just "know" my sources and intentions - don't want to be accused of plagiarism! Anyhow, it is based on Nick Cave's song of the same name, and I suppose one could call it an "interpretation", although perhaps it's just a CliffNotes version of it!?! There is a deliberate point of difference with the song, though, in the very first line (which was in fact my inspiration for writing this).
When I first came to town, people didn't gather round; no drinks did they buy. Their cold silence whistled through my bones, and I knew then what it was to be alone. Those dark rumours followed me till the end, when, with tears, I knew the heavens would send me no mercy. I knew though that my curses were in vain, for the next town, as always, would be the same.
When I first came to town, people didn't gather round; no drinks did they buy. Their cold silence whistled through my bones, and I knew then what it was to be alone. Those dark rumours followed me till the end, when, with tears, I knew the heavens would send me no mercy. I knew though that my curses were in vain, for the next town, as always, would be the same.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Streets of your town
Let me walk these streets,
For it is a town I hardly know
Let me forget the thoughts that ask
Whether it always turns out just so.
Open them unto me,
Your silent streets and cafes,
Let me stare and ask myself
Why I claim I can never stay.
Be it under the Sun,
Or as the day retreats once again,
Let me see the world as I wish it
Let goodbye never be a matter of when.
For it is a town I hardly know
Let me forget the thoughts that ask
Whether it always turns out just so.
Open them unto me,
Your silent streets and cafes,
Let me stare and ask myself
Why I claim I can never stay.
Be it under the Sun,
Or as the day retreats once again,
Let me see the world as I wish it
Let goodbye never be a matter of when.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
You know, Simon & Garfunkel's (well, I'm pretty sure it's purely Paul Simon's creation actually!) "A Simple Desultory Philippic" really surprises me. I always knew that Paul Simon was an exceedingly interesting lyricist, but I always pictured him as a soft person, never the kind to write something like this, (what seems to be) a somewhat harsh Dylan parody (see here for someone else who thinks so!). If one believes that it is in fact a parody, then what's strange to me is how they covered "The Times They Are A Changin'" on Wednesday Morning, 3AM with perfect sincerity - I'm trying to think whether something Dylan did in between the two abums is what ticked Simon off. Mayhaps he didn't like his new direction with Bringing It All Back Home, although I don't know why that would warrant such a reaction.
I remember reading an interview with Simon where he laughed off the rumour that "The Boxer" was about Dylan (it's one of the many interviews on this neat little page). It's quite a quirky rumour, actually, for it claims that the "Lai lai lai" chorus is in fact "Lie lie lie", referring to the fact that Dylan's not Bobby's real name. You sort of wish that this were true, 'twould take one whacked out lyricist to come up with that...anyhow, in the interview, I remember Simon saying that he wouldn't write a song about Dylan because he didn't know anything about his personal life. I'd like to believe him, really, but you listen to "Phillipic" and tell me what else it could be about! I suppose it's quite possible that it's more an attack on the kind of snob who sneers whenever he talks to someone who "...when you say Dylan / He thinks you're talking about Dylan Thomas / (Whoever he was)". But, the Dylan parody, whether it's meant to be teasing or biting, is certainly there - it's hard to interpret the vocal delivery style, the overt Dylan references ("It's alright ma / 'Cause everybody must get stoned"), the harmonica snippets and the closing "I lost my harmonica, Albert" as anything other than poking fun at Dylan!
There is the view that Dylan retaliated to this insult with a cover of "The Boxer" (hmm interesting that I should be perfectly ok with Dylan's "spoof" yet write this long post in Simon's case!). My own reaction to it is rather funny - initially, I loved it, and thought it must be better than the original (which I don't remember hearing in its entirety at this point). It was as though I thought "Covers of Dylan songs aren't as likeable as the originals, and so Dylan's own covers must be better than the originals" (of course, after really hearing the original since then, I think it is the surely the stronger song, though the cover suits a particular mood). It is only when I read that the song was supposedly a parody that I started to see where these people were coming from - I'd never considered the delivery to be sloppy previously, but on reconsideration I guess it is, almost purposely so. I always took it to be part of the idiosyncratic charm of the song! As for whether I think it a parody or not, I am really unsure. Sometimes I hear it and think it's just too quick and subdued to be a serious take, but then other times I take this to be a very legitimate interpretation, if only for a different mood and time.
Whether Simon harboured resent over the idolization of Dylan by the masses, I am not sure. I got the feeling that there was an undercurrent of this amongst people who saw the case of Lou Reed as being one of "Take Reed if you want a real poet, and Dylan if you want some phoney for the masses" - it isn't exactly jealousy, but there is the feeling that one's favourite artist has been unjustly overlooked in favour of a less deserving one. Simon, in his early days anyway, definitely seems more like a poet of old than Dylan, simply because of the choice of imagery and the general thematics of the lyrics. Whether he's more of a poet full-stop is another question (My answer? The question has none). Yet I'd be disappointed if Simon saw Dylan as a faux-poet or something of the sort. One can certainly accuse "Subterranean Homesick Blues" (which, incidentally, "Phillipic" is supposed to be based on) of being nothing more than a mish-mash of random words. But as rock's most charming poet* would say, "People see no worth in you / But I do". I dunno, I think there's something more than that to the song. It isn't just the lyrics, great as they are** - it's just the fact that it's a short punch of the surreal, what with the frantic guitar (what an unforgettable opening to the song!) and the very style of the delivery. Maybe the lyrics don't mean*** anything, but I don't think I'm kidding myself when I say that it somehow works.
I guess I wouldn't say that Dylan is about the lyrics, and the lyrics alone. For the songs that really work, it's his delivery of said lyrics that will probably win you over. I have a book of the man's lyrics, but simply out of homage to him, as I really don't see myself pulling the book out anytime soon to bask in the words. The reason I say it's not just the lyrics is that I'm not particularly fond of The Byrds' cover of "Mr. Tambourine Man", nor am I in awe of Hendrix's "All Along The Watchtower"****. The originals are far more moving, where Dylan seems to find just the right way to speak those magical lines of his ("Yes the dance beneath the diamond sky"...).
I sometimes think that Dylan suffers from people like me who gush about him and then go on about his lyrics. The problem is that people can go into it expecting an actual poem or something of the sort, but it's not quite that. Poetic, no doubt (at least to me), but there is still a ways to go before we call him a poet. Rock's poet-laureate, maybe, but like I've said before, I don't think one should necessarily consider this to be the same as a "real" poet. Rock-poetry is a different beast, and if you can take the good with the bad, it's ultimately very rewarding.
At any rate, I have a CD of a Simon/Dylan concert that was held sometime in the last ten years, so I guess any problems they had in the past are for the most part resolved. There's an interesting article about these concerts here. There is the interesting point made that Simon was not part of Dylan's 30th anniversary celebration, but perhaps that is not as surprising as it is on first mention. After all, Simon's writing style is a fair ways away from Dylan's, so it's hard to call Dylan a direct mentor of Simon. Whether or not Dylan opened the doors for Simon's own instrospective writing I am not sure - Simon's writing is clearly in a niche of its own by Sounds Of Silence, which is what, 1965?
But, all that aside, even I have to admit that "Phillipic"'s riff is insanely catchy, as are the lyrics themselves. "I've been Norman Maillered, Maxwell Taylored" indeed!
* Shucks, Morrissey comes awful close to being a poet, don't he? One cannot measure the worth of "Reel Around The Fountain" in gold.
** Once you start singing, it's hard to stop - but it's very easy to get breathless. In my youth, I've tried and failed several times to match Dylan's delivery, but it was just too much. Someday.
*** And when do lyrics "mean" something? Oh my, deja vu...
**** I find it interesting that so many people refer to Hendrix's cover as being clearly better than the original (some going so far to assert "We all know that Dylan's songs are better when they are covered by other people". Wow!), again simply because I like how people can see things in such different ways. To me, the original is far more ominous and powerful - "Let us not speak falsely now / The hour is getting late", then that harmonica. Ooh, don't make them like that anymore.
I remember reading an interview with Simon where he laughed off the rumour that "The Boxer" was about Dylan (it's one of the many interviews on this neat little page). It's quite a quirky rumour, actually, for it claims that the "Lai lai lai" chorus is in fact "Lie lie lie", referring to the fact that Dylan's not Bobby's real name. You sort of wish that this were true, 'twould take one whacked out lyricist to come up with that...anyhow, in the interview, I remember Simon saying that he wouldn't write a song about Dylan because he didn't know anything about his personal life. I'd like to believe him, really, but you listen to "Phillipic" and tell me what else it could be about! I suppose it's quite possible that it's more an attack on the kind of snob who sneers whenever he talks to someone who "...when you say Dylan / He thinks you're talking about Dylan Thomas / (Whoever he was)". But, the Dylan parody, whether it's meant to be teasing or biting, is certainly there - it's hard to interpret the vocal delivery style, the overt Dylan references ("It's alright ma / 'Cause everybody must get stoned"), the harmonica snippets and the closing "I lost my harmonica, Albert" as anything other than poking fun at Dylan!
There is the view that Dylan retaliated to this insult with a cover of "The Boxer" (hmm interesting that I should be perfectly ok with Dylan's "spoof" yet write this long post in Simon's case!). My own reaction to it is rather funny - initially, I loved it, and thought it must be better than the original (which I don't remember hearing in its entirety at this point). It was as though I thought "Covers of Dylan songs aren't as likeable as the originals, and so Dylan's own covers must be better than the originals" (of course, after really hearing the original since then, I think it is the surely the stronger song, though the cover suits a particular mood). It is only when I read that the song was supposedly a parody that I started to see where these people were coming from - I'd never considered the delivery to be sloppy previously, but on reconsideration I guess it is, almost purposely so. I always took it to be part of the idiosyncratic charm of the song! As for whether I think it a parody or not, I am really unsure. Sometimes I hear it and think it's just too quick and subdued to be a serious take, but then other times I take this to be a very legitimate interpretation, if only for a different mood and time.
Whether Simon harboured resent over the idolization of Dylan by the masses, I am not sure. I got the feeling that there was an undercurrent of this amongst people who saw the case of Lou Reed as being one of "Take Reed if you want a real poet, and Dylan if you want some phoney for the masses" - it isn't exactly jealousy, but there is the feeling that one's favourite artist has been unjustly overlooked in favour of a less deserving one. Simon, in his early days anyway, definitely seems more like a poet of old than Dylan, simply because of the choice of imagery and the general thematics of the lyrics. Whether he's more of a poet full-stop is another question (My answer? The question has none). Yet I'd be disappointed if Simon saw Dylan as a faux-poet or something of the sort. One can certainly accuse "Subterranean Homesick Blues" (which, incidentally, "Phillipic" is supposed to be based on) of being nothing more than a mish-mash of random words. But as rock's most charming poet* would say, "People see no worth in you / But I do". I dunno, I think there's something more than that to the song. It isn't just the lyrics, great as they are** - it's just the fact that it's a short punch of the surreal, what with the frantic guitar (what an unforgettable opening to the song!) and the very style of the delivery. Maybe the lyrics don't mean*** anything, but I don't think I'm kidding myself when I say that it somehow works.
I guess I wouldn't say that Dylan is about the lyrics, and the lyrics alone. For the songs that really work, it's his delivery of said lyrics that will probably win you over. I have a book of the man's lyrics, but simply out of homage to him, as I really don't see myself pulling the book out anytime soon to bask in the words. The reason I say it's not just the lyrics is that I'm not particularly fond of The Byrds' cover of "Mr. Tambourine Man", nor am I in awe of Hendrix's "All Along The Watchtower"****. The originals are far more moving, where Dylan seems to find just the right way to speak those magical lines of his ("Yes the dance beneath the diamond sky"...).
I sometimes think that Dylan suffers from people like me who gush about him and then go on about his lyrics. The problem is that people can go into it expecting an actual poem or something of the sort, but it's not quite that. Poetic, no doubt (at least to me), but there is still a ways to go before we call him a poet. Rock's poet-laureate, maybe, but like I've said before, I don't think one should necessarily consider this to be the same as a "real" poet. Rock-poetry is a different beast, and if you can take the good with the bad, it's ultimately very rewarding.
At any rate, I have a CD of a Simon/Dylan concert that was held sometime in the last ten years, so I guess any problems they had in the past are for the most part resolved. There's an interesting article about these concerts here. There is the interesting point made that Simon was not part of Dylan's 30th anniversary celebration, but perhaps that is not as surprising as it is on first mention. After all, Simon's writing style is a fair ways away from Dylan's, so it's hard to call Dylan a direct mentor of Simon. Whether or not Dylan opened the doors for Simon's own instrospective writing I am not sure - Simon's writing is clearly in a niche of its own by Sounds Of Silence, which is what, 1965?
But, all that aside, even I have to admit that "Phillipic"'s riff is insanely catchy, as are the lyrics themselves. "I've been Norman Maillered, Maxwell Taylored" indeed!
* Shucks, Morrissey comes awful close to being a poet, don't he? One cannot measure the worth of "Reel Around The Fountain" in gold.
** Once you start singing, it's hard to stop - but it's very easy to get breathless. In my youth, I've tried and failed several times to match Dylan's delivery, but it was just too much. Someday.
*** And when do lyrics "mean" something? Oh my, deja vu...
**** I find it interesting that so many people refer to Hendrix's cover as being clearly better than the original (some going so far to assert "We all know that Dylan's songs are better when they are covered by other people". Wow!), again simply because I like how people can see things in such different ways. To me, the original is far more ominous and powerful - "Let us not speak falsely now / The hour is getting late", then that harmonica. Ooh, don't make them like that anymore.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
I suppose I was asking for trouble when I posted something nice about the Velvet Underground a few days ago; it always seems that whenever I give them credit, for some reason "they" do something to irk me. In this case, it was the contents of a book of writings on the group that I came across. I should've known better, what with my experience with some of the stuff Reed and Morrison have said about Dylan and Morrison (uhh Jim Morrison, that is, not Sterling, although Reed probably put down Sterling at some point!!), two artists I know and love. It seems that a lot of fans of VU share a dislike of Dylan and the Doors, which makes me wonder why this trend seems to be largely prevalent among hardcore fans of the group (the type who regard them to be the fathers of modern rock, not just a cool little avant-garde group). I think certainly part of the reason is quite simply because they feel that such artists are renowned unjustly. (Then again, it seems like everyone hates the Doors these days, so...) Dylan nowadays receives virtually all credit for making literate rock lyrics, and I think the VU fan reaction is, to some extent at least, one of envy. I've read that people maintain that Reed's lyrics were more "honest", and that Dylan's were somehow through a veneer of some sort. (Of course I disagree, but I only bring these things up out of interest). There certainly is a world of difference between say "Visions Of Johanna" and "Venus In Furs", and I can certainly see the motivation for comments about the "reality" of Reed's lyrics.
It seems to me then that it's a different view of what is important/what is good in rock lyrics which prompts the anti-Dylan sentiment. The fact that Dylan is heralded as being the greatest lyricist ever and what have you no doubt irks some VU fans who see Reed as being a revolutionary before his time. I'm not intrepid enough to try and compared the two; there are areas where both shine, and the true high points are rather distinct I think. Reed can be completely honest and truly break down the barrier between listener and singer, be it when musing over his life ("My House"), or startling confession ("Heroin"), but on the other hand. It's obvious to me that he is a gifted lyricist, but one should consider also that Dylan mastered the art of making the bizarre make sense ("Stuck Inside Of Mobile"), and his imagery is darn-near unparalleled ("Visions Of Johanna"). And Blood On The Tracks, I think, is one of the most powerful rock-albums ever. When I talked about Plastic Ono Band, I mentioned how it was far more direct, and that's true; BOTT doesn't start off with "Mother, you had me, but I never had you". But it doesn't seem right to compare the two, because POB doesn't have anything like "Simple Twist Of Fate", say. Much like the Reed/Dylan divide, I think some things just can't be put side by side and critically contrasted, with a "winner" being determined.
And of course when one mentions The Doors, one of the first things bandied around is that they introduced the dark side of rock. I actually traced "Heroin" to as early as 1964, and Jim was actually influenced by VU after seeing them play once (imagine that!! What are the odds?), so it's true that the whole dark side of life thing wasn't entirely new. The Doors seem to be universally reviled now, so it's probably not just the VU fans who hate them. I suspect most of this animosity is directed squarely at Morrison, rather than at the actual band. I think with the Doors, it is very much a philosophical objection in the most part - I think many feel the band's whole atmosphere is fake, primarily because they find Morrison's lyrics to be derivative and phoney. I disagree, of course, but again I can certainly see adequate motivation for such sentiments. Even if you enter the world of Morrison with an open mind, there's a good chance that you'll feel disgusted with what you see (or hear), and join the ever-growing (it would seem) conclave of Doors-haters (or at least Doors-dislikers, who think the band is overrated).
I don't think it's as easy to try to compare Morrison and Reed in any objective sense, but it confounds me if it's the music itself turns people off. Starostin says "Anyone who thinks the Doors are unlistenable has a hearing disorder", and although I wouldn't go that far, it seems to have the right idea. I again suspect that it's probably Morrison who gets in the way of the music sometimes for the Jim-haters - a shame, because "Peace Frog" would still be great even without Jim's little digression (which I find rather good, but anyway) in the middle.
Yet again, it truly amazes me how people can have such different points of view, and how there are so many things which can affect this!
Aside: I don't much like these posts, because there's no proper opinion being expressed. I sometimes think that I hate writing, because I find now that I have no will to write down anything about what I feel about VU in comparison to Dylan and Morrison. What is happening to me!?!
It seems to me then that it's a different view of what is important/what is good in rock lyrics which prompts the anti-Dylan sentiment. The fact that Dylan is heralded as being the greatest lyricist ever and what have you no doubt irks some VU fans who see Reed as being a revolutionary before his time. I'm not intrepid enough to try and compared the two; there are areas where both shine, and the true high points are rather distinct I think. Reed can be completely honest and truly break down the barrier between listener and singer, be it when musing over his life ("My House"), or startling confession ("Heroin"), but on the other hand. It's obvious to me that he is a gifted lyricist, but one should consider also that Dylan mastered the art of making the bizarre make sense ("Stuck Inside Of Mobile"), and his imagery is darn-near unparalleled ("Visions Of Johanna"). And Blood On The Tracks, I think, is one of the most powerful rock-albums ever. When I talked about Plastic Ono Band, I mentioned how it was far more direct, and that's true; BOTT doesn't start off with "Mother, you had me, but I never had you". But it doesn't seem right to compare the two, because POB doesn't have anything like "Simple Twist Of Fate", say. Much like the Reed/Dylan divide, I think some things just can't be put side by side and critically contrasted, with a "winner" being determined.
And of course when one mentions The Doors, one of the first things bandied around is that they introduced the dark side of rock. I actually traced "Heroin" to as early as 1964, and Jim was actually influenced by VU after seeing them play once (imagine that!! What are the odds?), so it's true that the whole dark side of life thing wasn't entirely new. The Doors seem to be universally reviled now, so it's probably not just the VU fans who hate them. I suspect most of this animosity is directed squarely at Morrison, rather than at the actual band. I think with the Doors, it is very much a philosophical objection in the most part - I think many feel the band's whole atmosphere is fake, primarily because they find Morrison's lyrics to be derivative and phoney. I disagree, of course, but again I can certainly see adequate motivation for such sentiments. Even if you enter the world of Morrison with an open mind, there's a good chance that you'll feel disgusted with what you see (or hear), and join the ever-growing (it would seem) conclave of Doors-haters (or at least Doors-dislikers, who think the band is overrated).
I don't think it's as easy to try to compare Morrison and Reed in any objective sense, but it confounds me if it's the music itself turns people off. Starostin says "Anyone who thinks the Doors are unlistenable has a hearing disorder", and although I wouldn't go that far, it seems to have the right idea. I again suspect that it's probably Morrison who gets in the way of the music sometimes for the Jim-haters - a shame, because "Peace Frog" would still be great even without Jim's little digression (which I find rather good, but anyway) in the middle.
Yet again, it truly amazes me how people can have such different points of view, and how there are so many things which can affect this!
Aside: I don't much like these posts, because there's no proper opinion being expressed. I sometimes think that I hate writing, because I find now that I have no will to write down anything about what I feel about VU in comparison to Dylan and Morrison. What is happening to me!?!
Sunday, October 17, 2004
As I looked outside the window today, it was with a sense of disappointment that I realized that I cannot achieve immortality with words. "The children are all insane / Waiting for the summer rain", "And if my thought-dreams could be seen /
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine / But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only", "Help me find my proper place / Because I'm falling out of grace", I can't hope to write anything like that. I look up to them, seek inspiration from them, but alas, it is depressing when everytime you find yourself falling short! I suppose that when you look at greater minds than yours, you realize how small you really are. In many ways, I guess I am but a shallow reflection of these greater writers, consciously or not using their techniques to try to give words to my ideas. I suppose it is a long struggle ahead, but at least one day I would like to write something really resonant which I can look at sometime in the future and just sigh with satisfaction.
Yes, I don't know what I would have given to write any of those lines. My right arm, perhaps!? Perhaps it's just the weather - the rain has always brought out the brooding artistic part of me - but right now I feel like I ought to leave my mark on this world using the power of the word. It may well be the only real way that we can become immortal, and maybe it's the answer to all the questions I've had about my worries about the pointlessness of it all? Then again, there is no universal panacea, but I'm one of the hazy half-asleep states right now, where my idealism seems to know no bounds.
I think part of the problem is that Jim Morrison. As I predicted a month or so ago, it seems like I'm having that period where I am getting taken with this image I have somehow created of him as a dark, brooding poet, the kind that I guess fascinates me. Plus, that deep voice, ooh now that can send chills down your spine. I can see the similarity to Nick Cave, actually. Anyway, it looks like I'll be spending this summer swooning over Crystal Ship.
Speaking of Morrison, of all people Amma said she played The Doors at full volume in her room when she was 16. For some reason, it strikes me as a very...how to explain it? No, impossible, I can't explain, suffice to say it's a remark I think I shall remember for a while now. Maybe someday I can tell youngsters of the time I played Black Dog on a cold winter morning?
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine / But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only", "Help me find my proper place / Because I'm falling out of grace", I can't hope to write anything like that. I look up to them, seek inspiration from them, but alas, it is depressing when everytime you find yourself falling short! I suppose that when you look at greater minds than yours, you realize how small you really are. In many ways, I guess I am but a shallow reflection of these greater writers, consciously or not using their techniques to try to give words to my ideas. I suppose it is a long struggle ahead, but at least one day I would like to write something really resonant which I can look at sometime in the future and just sigh with satisfaction.
Yes, I don't know what I would have given to write any of those lines. My right arm, perhaps!? Perhaps it's just the weather - the rain has always brought out the brooding artistic part of me - but right now I feel like I ought to leave my mark on this world using the power of the word. It may well be the only real way that we can become immortal, and maybe it's the answer to all the questions I've had about my worries about the pointlessness of it all? Then again, there is no universal panacea, but I'm one of the hazy half-asleep states right now, where my idealism seems to know no bounds.
I think part of the problem is that Jim Morrison. As I predicted a month or so ago, it seems like I'm having that period where I am getting taken with this image I have somehow created of him as a dark, brooding poet, the kind that I guess fascinates me. Plus, that deep voice, ooh now that can send chills down your spine. I can see the similarity to Nick Cave, actually. Anyway, it looks like I'll be spending this summer swooning over Crystal Ship.
Speaking of Morrison, of all people Amma said she played The Doors at full volume in her room when she was 16. For some reason, it strikes me as a very...how to explain it? No, impossible, I can't explain, suffice to say it's a remark I think I shall remember for a while now. Maybe someday I can tell youngsters of the time I played Black Dog on a cold winter morning?
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
I don't normally post entire song lyrics*, but today I'll make an exception. Here's a lyric that is dedicated to a certain Miss Zhu, courtesy of my good friend, the rock star and poet extraordinaire Lou Reed.
Oh how I wish I could write like that! I do apologize Miss Zhu if this seems rather impersonal, but I truly don't think I can put it better than how Reed has done it here.
* What is it that makes me not prone to posting entire lyrics? I think it's because too many other bloggers do it, and so I sort of feel like I should refrain from the norm (as you can tell, my blog has always been boldly pushing the envelope, and has tried its hardest to take blogging onto a new level). It's a bit weird how I try so hard to be distinguish myself sometimes.
I'll be your mirror,
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know
I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset
The light on your door to show that you're home
When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please, put down your hands
Because I see you
I find it hard to believe you don't know
The beauty that you are
But if you don't let me be your eyes
A hand in your darkness, so you won't be afraid
When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands
Because I see you
I'll be your mirror
Oh how I wish I could write like that! I do apologize Miss Zhu if this seems rather impersonal, but I truly don't think I can put it better than how Reed has done it here.
* What is it that makes me not prone to posting entire lyrics? I think it's because too many other bloggers do it, and so I sort of feel like I should refrain from the norm (as you can tell, my blog has always been boldly pushing the envelope, and has tried its hardest to take blogging onto a new level). It's a bit weird how I try so hard to be distinguish myself sometimes.
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Since I revel in the pointless, yesterday I was scouring to find whether The Velvet Underground (or Lou Reed, to be more precise) were the first to introduce dark and complex lyrics to rock. The precise motivation for this is unclear, as it is with so many things I do. For starters, I have nothing better to do; but also, I had read a bit on the net of people trying to be level-headed about VU, and mentioning that there were other acts that introduced the element of serious lyrics to rock before they did.
Note that I only really looked for the origins of some of their songs, in an attempt to see whether they were the first group with serious lyrics. They are renowned for many other things too, such as the birth of punk, goth, new wave, and any other category you'd like to chuck in, but these are not in question here, partly because I wasn't particularly interested in this aspect, but also because it's much harder to determine whether someone influenced other people.
What I've come up with so far is this. Their first album was released in 1967, perhaps the greatest year for albums ever (Sgt. Pepper, The Doors, Are You Experienced?, Magical Mystery Tour, Piper At The Gates Of Dawn, Surrealistic Pillow, Days Of Future Passed...). To which one might initially think "Well, that's that then - Jim Morrison exploded onto the scene at the same time with "The End". Top that". But a little more research revealed that the album was in fact recorded in 1966, but it was only released in '67 due to delays. Ah, but The Doors were performing "The End" in 1966 too - although at what time specifically is unclear. Ok, so there may be an edge over Morrsion, but still, there is enough uncertainty to tilt the scales in Morrison's favour.
Then it got interesting, because apparently Morrison himself was in the crowd for one of the Velvet's shows in '66! Yep, it seems he was a film student at the UCLA, and he was there to hear the Velvets perform their most provocative numbers (Venus In Furs, Heroin). So did the Velvets influence the Lizard King?! Unclear, but it would seem so.
Ah, but the timeline stretches further into the past. It seems that it was as early as 1965 that the Velvets were playing Heroin, including their famous performance at a high-school auditorium. So how old is this song already!?
Well, older still, possibly, because apparently the Velvets formed in late '64!! That places them ahead of most competition, and leads me to conclude that maybe they were the first to think about introducing the darker side of life to the world.
It's important to keep in mind, however, that none of this really matters. Well, that's not entirely true, but it probably doesn't matter as much as I've made it out to be. 'Twas just me filling up time, I suppose. I don't believe that it automatically affirms all the great things people have said about the Velvets, but rather it merely hints (important! I say hints, not shows, because I can't really establish the validity of some of my sources) that they were revolutionary in a lyrical aspect.
So, the outcome is that I now think that it was VU, and not Morrison, who introduced a darker shade of rock. However, Morrison certainly introduced it to the general public, because the Doors' debut was a huge success. Then of course there's the question of whether stuff like "Break On Through" is in some sense 'better' dark rock to the Velvet's stuff. Which one is more important is another matter entirely, of course, and falls into the lovely realm of subjectivity vs. objectivity.
At the same time, I don't know that Reed introduced serious lyrics to rock. Darker, yes, but serious, no. That would still have to be Dylan. In '64, he recorded "My Back Pages" and "The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll", which I think are beautiful examples of serious lyrics ("My Back Pages" in particular is pure poetry). And was it not in '63 that he recorded "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall"? Of course, some people argue that Reed introduced serious lyrics to rock, as opposed to folk, which is sort of where Dylan's loyalties lied at the time. Still, with Another Side Of Bob Dylan he closes with "It Ain't Me Babe", which some interpret as being his statement that he was not the messiah who would save folk music, because his interests lied elsewhere. Who knows?
Ah, nothing like a long, pointless post to start the day!
Note that I only really looked for the origins of some of their songs, in an attempt to see whether they were the first group with serious lyrics. They are renowned for many other things too, such as the birth of punk, goth, new wave, and any other category you'd like to chuck in, but these are not in question here, partly because I wasn't particularly interested in this aspect, but also because it's much harder to determine whether someone influenced other people.
What I've come up with so far is this. Their first album was released in 1967, perhaps the greatest year for albums ever (Sgt. Pepper, The Doors, Are You Experienced?, Magical Mystery Tour, Piper At The Gates Of Dawn, Surrealistic Pillow, Days Of Future Passed...). To which one might initially think "Well, that's that then - Jim Morrison exploded onto the scene at the same time with "The End". Top that". But a little more research revealed that the album was in fact recorded in 1966, but it was only released in '67 due to delays. Ah, but The Doors were performing "The End" in 1966 too - although at what time specifically is unclear. Ok, so there may be an edge over Morrsion, but still, there is enough uncertainty to tilt the scales in Morrison's favour.
Then it got interesting, because apparently Morrison himself was in the crowd for one of the Velvet's shows in '66! Yep, it seems he was a film student at the UCLA, and he was there to hear the Velvets perform their most provocative numbers (Venus In Furs, Heroin). So did the Velvets influence the Lizard King?! Unclear, but it would seem so.
Ah, but the timeline stretches further into the past. It seems that it was as early as 1965 that the Velvets were playing Heroin, including their famous performance at a high-school auditorium. So how old is this song already!?
Well, older still, possibly, because apparently the Velvets formed in late '64!! That places them ahead of most competition, and leads me to conclude that maybe they were the first to think about introducing the darker side of life to the world.
It's important to keep in mind, however, that none of this really matters. Well, that's not entirely true, but it probably doesn't matter as much as I've made it out to be. 'Twas just me filling up time, I suppose. I don't believe that it automatically affirms all the great things people have said about the Velvets, but rather it merely hints (important! I say hints, not shows, because I can't really establish the validity of some of my sources) that they were revolutionary in a lyrical aspect.
So, the outcome is that I now think that it was VU, and not Morrison, who introduced a darker shade of rock. However, Morrison certainly introduced it to the general public, because the Doors' debut was a huge success. Then of course there's the question of whether stuff like "Break On Through" is in some sense 'better' dark rock to the Velvet's stuff. Which one is more important is another matter entirely, of course, and falls into the lovely realm of subjectivity vs. objectivity.
At the same time, I don't know that Reed introduced serious lyrics to rock. Darker, yes, but serious, no. That would still have to be Dylan. In '64, he recorded "My Back Pages" and "The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll", which I think are beautiful examples of serious lyrics ("My Back Pages" in particular is pure poetry). And was it not in '63 that he recorded "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall"? Of course, some people argue that Reed introduced serious lyrics to rock, as opposed to folk, which is sort of where Dylan's loyalties lied at the time. Still, with Another Side Of Bob Dylan he closes with "It Ain't Me Babe", which some interpret as being his statement that he was not the messiah who would save folk music, because his interests lied elsewhere. Who knows?
Ah, nothing like a long, pointless post to start the day!
Friday, July 09, 2004
Here's when I almost became a folk rock star; a piece inspired by, well, failure (more specifically, my own). Not quite as bad as my epic in 9 parts, but that's not saying much, now is it?
It was a black day,
One cruel December morn
When the mighty king fell
As a new one was born.
All his life he'd struggled,
He'd risen to the top
Never once did he think
It would someday stop.
They came in the night,
They dressed themselves in white
And with swords of purest steel
They would be his last sight.
Not all had forsaken him,
There was a knight and wife
She was still glowing when
They stuck in her a knife.
The knight took his master,
And fled from the scene
All the while believing
He was in a dream.
The king had wronged no one,
His heart was pure as gold.
Yet all things' time must come
Or so we are told.
When they found them,
The knight clenched his sword
His palms sweating, he lunged
At the white horde.
His death was quick and easy,
They would recall and laugh
Trained all his life, but in the end
He was cut in half.
The king now left standing,
Not a friend was ledft
And so with a heavy heart
His end he did accept.
They laughed and wept soon after,
And the new king they did appoint
Heart of black and face of white
But in secret, he saw no point.
For in days yet to come
He too would see
A day when his time would come
At the hands of you and me.
Somehow, when I wrote this, I had this simple folky melody in my head, and so whenever I read it, it's like a song. What's odd then is how different the words appear to be when you don't have that melody in your head - things which may seem powerful and moving due to the way you sing them can seem quite flat when thought of as just words.
Actually, what the heck, I don't quite mind it, in fact you might say I like it. Sure, it is terrible, but why should that stop me?
It was a black day,
One cruel December morn
When the mighty king fell
As a new one was born.
All his life he'd struggled,
He'd risen to the top
Never once did he think
It would someday stop.
They came in the night,
They dressed themselves in white
And with swords of purest steel
They would be his last sight.
Not all had forsaken him,
There was a knight and wife
She was still glowing when
They stuck in her a knife.
The knight took his master,
And fled from the scene
All the while believing
He was in a dream.
The king had wronged no one,
His heart was pure as gold.
Yet all things' time must come
Or so we are told.
When they found them,
The knight clenched his sword
His palms sweating, he lunged
At the white horde.
His death was quick and easy,
They would recall and laugh
Trained all his life, but in the end
He was cut in half.
The king now left standing,
Not a friend was ledft
And so with a heavy heart
His end he did accept.
They laughed and wept soon after,
And the new king they did appoint
Heart of black and face of white
But in secret, he saw no point.
For in days yet to come
He too would see
A day when his time would come
At the hands of you and me.
Somehow, when I wrote this, I had this simple folky melody in my head, and so whenever I read it, it's like a song. What's odd then is how different the words appear to be when you don't have that melody in your head - things which may seem powerful and moving due to the way you sing them can seem quite flat when thought of as just words.
Actually, what the heck, I don't quite mind it, in fact you might say I like it. Sure, it is terrible, but why should that stop me?
Monday, January 26, 2004
I just saw the bit in Woody Allen's Annie Hall, where Allen's character rolls his eyes as a rock critic quotes Dylan's Just Like A Woman (followed by the amusing exchange of "Did you catch Dylan?" / "Me? No, my raccoon had hepatitis"). Seeing as how I'm no expert on Allen's works (heck, it's the first time I've seen him actually act), I've no idea whether this is reflective of his real view on Dylan. But that's irrelevant when compared to the idea of finding him (Dylan) trite, which is, I must admit, a view I've rarely heard anyone famous express (but like I said before, I don't know if Allen was serious or not). This view got me thinking.
(Everything that follows has an implicit "in my opinion" tagged at the start, by the way)
We can neglect the fact that Just Like A Woman is far from Dylan's highlight as a lyricist; the song itself is not bad, but the man has done much better things with his words than this. Why focus on the lyrics? Well, Dylan's influence was always, I think, primarily with his lyrics. My music-listening experience has confirmed the widely-held view Dylan revolutionized the concept of the song lyric as he incorporated beat poetry (yes, I do consider some of his stuff poetry) and opened up the door to stream of consciousness style composition. Along with The Beatles, Dylan pretty much shaped the face of most of rock music that followed in some way or the other.
Ok, so Dylan was influential. But that doesn't necessarily mean that he was good, does it? Of course not! The important thing then is whether or not his work was of a sufficient standard to be taken seriously. Lines like
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl
'Just Like A Woman' - Dylan
certainly don't sound too good when read out loud (which is the case in Annie Hall). But then again, what about
The palace of mirrors
Where dog soldiers are reflected,
The endless road and the wailing of chimes,
The empty rooms where her memory is protected,
Where the angels' voices whisper to the souls of previous times
'Changing Of The Guards' - Dylan
That sounds a bit more "poetic". One can deconstruct and analyse the lyrics as one would a poem, if only to gain an idea of how "complex" it is. I doubt it would be possible to use this to show how "good" a poem is, but still, it's something. So we have a way of establishing that yes, Dylan's work was indeed complex. You can't dismiss all his stuff as easily as you could Just Like A Woman (from a lyrical point of view, I reiterate) as somewhat trivial and, arguably, banal.
But do these "poetic" lyrics actually mean anything? If they don't, does it really matter? These are tricky questions. For the first one, I think in a lot of cases, the lyrics mean whatever you want them to mean. That may sound rather cheap, but I wonder the fact that the composer's attached meaning to a lyric alters the power of one's personal meaning. Does it matter if Dylan didn't intend Desolation Row to be semi-autobiographical (which I think it is)? I don't think so.
A good essay on this by Robert Hunter (lyricist for the Grateful Dead) is found here. He analyses one of his songs to counter the claim put up that his lyrics make no sense. Before doing so, he notes that "I may know where they (the lyrics) come from, but I don't know where they've been".
This doesn't mean that you can pass off any old nonsense as "good poetry" just because someone can attach any meaning they want to it. I could write
The wailing catfish scratches on my glass
While the open mouth is silent with sounds
Of tears falling down my cheeks
off the top of my head, but that doesn't necessarily make it brilliant because you can interpret it as being an epic postmodernist view of romance in a crazy world. I think it's the way in which the lyric is presented that determines this - allusion, imagery, etc.
The argument then of songs not having any readily identifiable meaning is perhaps not as simple as one would think.
So there are times when as of themselves, the lyrics can't possibly mean anything. We attach meaning to them, but I think it's wrong to associate the composers meaning with the meaning of the lyric itself. Of course, there are the lyrics where the meaning is (seemingly) straightforward:
I've heard you say many times
That you're better 'n no one
And no one is better 'n you.
If you really believe that,
You know you got
Nothing to win and nothing to lose
'To Ramona' - Dylan
Here the meaning can't be hidden under allegory or the like - it's just a statement made by Dylan. So here again it's the way in which the statement is made that's important. Does it boil down to personal taste? I wonder.
I don't think I've quite made my point, partly because I'm not quite sure what it was supposed to be. That Dylan was a good lyricist, not some pretentious twit who strung a few words together? Ehhh possibly. I also fear I've treaded on the subjectivity/objectivity debacle, and the question of intrinsic/extrinsic value. Time to get out Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance.
And just to reiterate one final time, I really like Just Like A Woman, especially the version on the Concert For Bangladesh. I just share Allen's character's view that those particular lines are nothing special. They're not bad, but they're not genius (as a lot of his other work was).
(Everything that follows has an implicit "in my opinion" tagged at the start, by the way)
We can neglect the fact that Just Like A Woman is far from Dylan's highlight as a lyricist; the song itself is not bad, but the man has done much better things with his words than this. Why focus on the lyrics? Well, Dylan's influence was always, I think, primarily with his lyrics. My music-listening experience has confirmed the widely-held view Dylan revolutionized the concept of the song lyric as he incorporated beat poetry (yes, I do consider some of his stuff poetry) and opened up the door to stream of consciousness style composition. Along with The Beatles, Dylan pretty much shaped the face of most of rock music that followed in some way or the other.
Ok, so Dylan was influential. But that doesn't necessarily mean that he was good, does it? Of course not! The important thing then is whether or not his work was of a sufficient standard to be taken seriously. Lines like
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl
'Just Like A Woman' - Dylan
certainly don't sound too good when read out loud (which is the case in Annie Hall). But then again, what about
The palace of mirrors
Where dog soldiers are reflected,
The endless road and the wailing of chimes,
The empty rooms where her memory is protected,
Where the angels' voices whisper to the souls of previous times
'Changing Of The Guards' - Dylan
That sounds a bit more "poetic". One can deconstruct and analyse the lyrics as one would a poem, if only to gain an idea of how "complex" it is. I doubt it would be possible to use this to show how "good" a poem is, but still, it's something. So we have a way of establishing that yes, Dylan's work was indeed complex. You can't dismiss all his stuff as easily as you could Just Like A Woman (from a lyrical point of view, I reiterate) as somewhat trivial and, arguably, banal.
But do these "poetic" lyrics actually mean anything? If they don't, does it really matter? These are tricky questions. For the first one, I think in a lot of cases, the lyrics mean whatever you want them to mean. That may sound rather cheap, but I wonder the fact that the composer's attached meaning to a lyric alters the power of one's personal meaning. Does it matter if Dylan didn't intend Desolation Row to be semi-autobiographical (which I think it is)? I don't think so.
A good essay on this by Robert Hunter (lyricist for the Grateful Dead) is found here. He analyses one of his songs to counter the claim put up that his lyrics make no sense. Before doing so, he notes that "I may know where they (the lyrics) come from, but I don't know where they've been".
This doesn't mean that you can pass off any old nonsense as "good poetry" just because someone can attach any meaning they want to it. I could write
The wailing catfish scratches on my glass
While the open mouth is silent with sounds
Of tears falling down my cheeks
off the top of my head, but that doesn't necessarily make it brilliant because you can interpret it as being an epic postmodernist view of romance in a crazy world. I think it's the way in which the lyric is presented that determines this - allusion, imagery, etc.
The argument then of songs not having any readily identifiable meaning is perhaps not as simple as one would think.
So there are times when as of themselves, the lyrics can't possibly mean anything. We attach meaning to them, but I think it's wrong to associate the composers meaning with the meaning of the lyric itself. Of course, there are the lyrics where the meaning is (seemingly) straightforward:
I've heard you say many times
That you're better 'n no one
And no one is better 'n you.
If you really believe that,
You know you got
Nothing to win and nothing to lose
'To Ramona' - Dylan
Here the meaning can't be hidden under allegory or the like - it's just a statement made by Dylan. So here again it's the way in which the statement is made that's important. Does it boil down to personal taste? I wonder.
I don't think I've quite made my point, partly because I'm not quite sure what it was supposed to be. That Dylan was a good lyricist, not some pretentious twit who strung a few words together? Ehhh possibly. I also fear I've treaded on the subjectivity/objectivity debacle, and the question of intrinsic/extrinsic value. Time to get out Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance.
And just to reiterate one final time, I really like Just Like A Woman, especially the version on the Concert For Bangladesh. I just share Allen's character's view that those particular lines are nothing special. They're not bad, but they're not genius (as a lot of his other work was).
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