A podcast that's quite a bit different from normal, and not one I'm completely comfortable with. That said, this should be a place where I can take creative risks and let the chips fall where they may.
Celebrated Summer (Bob Mould)
Love and hate was in the air, like pollen from a flower. Somewhere in April time, they add another hour.
I guess I'd better think up a way to spend the time. Just when I'm ready to sit inside, it's summertime. Should I go fishing or get a friend to hang around? It's back to summer, back to basics, hang around.
Getting drunk out on the beach, or playing in a band, And getting out of school meant getting out of hand.
Was this your celebrated summer? Was this your celebrated summer?
When the sun disintegrates between a wall of clouds. A summer where I winter at, and no one is allowed there.
Do you remember when the first snowfall fell? When summer barely had a snowball's chance in hell?
Was that your celebrated summer? Was that your celebrated summer?
When the sun disintegrates between a wall of clouds. Was that your celebrated summer?
Okay - I'm not (or wasn't) a fan of Savage Garden. I never liked Janet Jackson. Queen was cool and I dug their stuff. Simon and Garfunkel, as mellow as they were, knew how to craft a song.... Whether I liked the March 1st, number one songs of the last 80 years, and as insipid as some of the lyrical evolution was, things have really taken a turn in the last decade.
I've generally considered number one songs to be an indicator of the lowest common denominator of a culture's understanding and comprehension. That the lowest common denominator of 1970 was probably close to the peak of our culture today is telling. How far have we been dumbed down in 40 years? I thought "Tonight's gonna be a good night" was the most repetitive inane tune I'd have to hear for the next decade, and then the Peas outdid themselves. Bring back Aqua; I'd rather be in a Barbie World.
2010 - Black-Eyed Peas - Imma Be
Rich baby quick quick imma imma imma be
The shit baby check me out be
Imma be, imma be
On top, never stop (be be)
Imma be, imma be - imma imma imma be
Imma be, fcukin her
Imma imma imma be - imma be be be imma imma be
2000 - Savage Garden - I Knew I Loved You
Maybe it's intuition
But some things you just don't question
Like in your eyes
I see my future in an instant
and there it goes
1990 - Janet Jackson - Escapade
My mind's tired, I've worked so hard all
Worked so hard all week
I just got paid, we've got it made
Ready to go
I promise you, I'll show you such a good time
1980 - Queen - Crazy Little Thing Called Love
I gotta be cool relax, get hip
Get on my tracks
Take a back seat, hitch-hike
And take a long ride on my motor bike
Until I'm ready
Crazy little thing called love
1970 - Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water
Sail on Silver Girl,
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
If you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
1960 - Percy Faith - Theme From A Summer Place
There's a summer place
Where it may rain or storm
Yet I'm safe and warm
For within that summer place
Your arms reach out to me
And my heart is free from all care
1950 - Red Foley - Chattanooga Shoe Shine Boy
Have you ever passed the corner of Fourth and Grand
Where a little ball of rhythm has a shoeshine stand?
People gather 'round and they clap their hands,
He's a great big bundle of joy--
He pops a boogie woogie rag,
The Chattanoogie Shoe Shine Boy.
1940 - Glen Miller - In The Mood
First I held him lightly and we started to dance
Then I held him tightly what a dreamy romance
And I said "Hey, baby, it's a quarter to three
There's a mess of moonlight, won't-cha share it with me"
"Well" he answered "Baby, don't-cha know that it's rude
To keep my two lips waitin' when they're in the mood"
An early surface interpretation might suggest McCartney evoking the obvious late 60's "Summer of Love" mentality of free love, anywhere, any time. His push toward the public expression of sexual gratification in the middle of a city street hearkens to a time period of rebellion against taboos around the world. He devolves us to the apes rushing to copulate "helter skelter" on the asphalt thumbing their nose at older generations who strut around like roosters in tuxedos... with bow ties... drinking single malt.
Why don't we do it in the road?
By repeating the earlier sentiment, one could think McCartney is making us really question the element of the pronoun "we". We assume that McCartney means himself and a lover, but considering the social unrest occurring throughout the western world during this time period, it's highly likely that, in fact, the "we" refers to the group of disenfranchised youth that exercised civil liberties by hitting the streets with placards and chants. It is a call to arms against the military-industrial complex that funded the Vietnam war and sent young people to their deaths while profiteering on death.
Why don't we do it in the road?
In the third proclamation of the title line, the walrus recalls the focus on the word "it" as we realize that perhaps our assumption of the copulation expected in line one was perhaps a bit simplistic in interpretation. We realize that it could be anything. The operative part of the sentence comes later in the revelation that no matter what "it" is, "it" should be done in plain sight. The conveyance of the action (2it) to the road reveals a relatively simple mathematic formula that helps to define the logic of the lyric. To put it simply (Y - [I + U] + 2it) / C200H246N2S7O4.
Why don't we do it in the road?
Only by the fourth repetition do we realize the true pain and suffering behind the artist's vision. Echoing the repetition of Eliot at the end of Hollow Men, McCartney goes to a fourth step that reveals his intention.
The final question in the WDWDIITR puzzle lies in the "in". The preposition has been a long time misnomer. Does McCartney mean "in" or "on". We normally say phrases like "out in the street", but does this mean we are consumed or buried in the asphalt? Does Sir Paul indicate that we are up to our necks in road and can only rise up by doing it? Are we drowning in the road? It would be easy for McCartney to say "on" the road, but would that really convey the true sentiment of his tortured soul that, at this point, was being swallowed by the Beatles to the point that he essentially recorded this song entirely by himself overnight on October 9th, 1968. McCartney feels dragged down by the rest of the band and stuck in the gooey asphalt that is restricting his creativity. The line is meant to be ironic. Instead of saying "Why don't we just all restrict our creativity and bog each other down?", he instead asks the title line.
No one will be watching us.
McCartney develops the continuing theme of the popular juggernaut that was The Beatles by waxing satiric on the legions of the band's followers. They buried themselves in studios, tried to run to India, ran off in different directions, but still remained more popular than ever. Gaggles of girls waited outside of every door. Television and newspaper reporters waited around every turn. There is no small sadness in the fact that McCartney only feels that his only chance of escaping prying eyes would be in blatant public view. Unfortunately, even an attempt at this strategy didn't work a scant year or so later when The Beatles climbed up on a roof top and the cameras still followed.
Why don't we do it in the road?
Resigned to his fate of never being able to escape the pressures of being in the most popular band in the world, McCartney presages the angst-ridden singer-songwriters of the 1990s and 2000s by contemplating suicide. He wants the entire band and all their fans to join him in a suicide pact while awaiting an oncoming vehicle to run them all over. I know that some of you may think this a bit far-fetched, but I call your attention to the Abbey Road album cover from less than a year later. The fab four lined up like carnival game targets just waiting for a speeding lorry to end "it" all.
Just because a song has a repetitive banal dance beat, and an autotuned vocal track to boot, doesn't mean the lyrics can't by high literature. I offer up the current Number One Billboard Radio Song as an example of a lyric that contains all of the thematic complexity of Shakespeare and Siddhartha. Why can't you people bow down and acknowledge lyrical genius when you read it? I heard that on his next album there will be a song trilogy that sums up the key elements of Camus, Proust, and Ezra Pound.
Down
by Jay Sean
Baby are you down down down down down,
Downnnnnnn, downnnnnnn,
Obviously calling upon his Marxist teachings of class warfare, Jay Sean calls to mind how struggling lower class infants not only are trapped by their predicament within a modern capitalist society, but that the slippery slope becomes inescapable as echoed by the persistent repetition of the title.
Even if the sky is falling down,
Downnnnn, downnnnn
Ooohhh (ohhh)
Calling upon the children's literary reference "Chicken Little" Sean expresses the deep-seeded fear felt by young children confronted a society where everything seems crumbling around. A clever allusion is also apparent whereby Roots' protagonist Chicken George is melded with Canadian elder statesman impressionist Rich Little in illustrating the hypocrisy involved in the illusion of rising up without action to back it up.
You oughta know, tonight is the night to let it go,
Put on a show, i wanna see how you lose control,
A cry for a needed self-examination of the internal walls put up around the empowerment of the lower class. Sean sits back as the provoker/reporter who recalls many a standard Shakespearean metaphor about the deconstruction of life as play. Here he asks the everyman youth to abandon class-based expectations and act outside of themselves in an effort to assess the potential for an eventual revolution against the upper class.
So leave it behind ‘cause we, have a night to get away,
So come on and fly with me, as we make our great escape.
In an obvious homage to bleak outlook of life under a capitalist oligarchy, Sean encourages hallucinogenic experimentation as a means of escape and empowerment. As the sky falls down around the disenfranchised, only by letting go inhibitions will they be able to exceed the social parameters they've been forced into.
So baby don’t worry, you are my only,
You won’t be lonely, even if the sky is falling down,
You’ll be my only, no need to worry,
In recalling the struggle of the underclass, Sean asserts a subtle, yet meaningful appreciation for the formation and galvanizing effort of urban guerrilla squads where affected youth can gather under shared roofs of poverty and fear while relying on each other for support. Within these impromptu families, those who have been abandoned by society or their families can gain strength under a unified cause while not having to constantly worry.
Just let it be, come on and bring your body next to me,
I’ll take you away, hey, turn this place into our private getaway,
In evoking the pastoral tones of McCartney's Let it Be, Sean seeks to share his strength in a effort to not only respond to the insurgent threat that seeks to shatter his domain, but also turn revolution into assimilation. By turning the place into a private getaway, Sean admits the temptation embodied in a Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous attitude of co-opting that which is depressed and omnipresent around him into a place of exclusion and privilege.
So leave it behind ‘cause we, have a night to get away,
So come on and fly with me, as we make our great escape,
(So why don’t we run away)
While recalling the sense of chemical escapism from earlier, Sean, in a clever turn, brings the fantasy back down to reality by acknowledging the folly of flying to make an escape. His acceptance of the crushing world coming down upon him will not allow him to fly. Flying to him has been the refuge of fantasies and the dreams of a perceived move to a state in which he would become "hyperhuman". Instead Sean's realization that flight is folly, leads him to the conclusion that sometimes the most prudent escape is just to run away. The dreams of flying will have to remain just that.
Even if the sky is falling down like she supposed to be,
She gets down low for me,
Down like her temperature, ‘cause to me she too raw degree,
She crawl all over things,
In taking us on a cycle of flight to walking to crawling, Sean encompasses the entire pattern of the evolution of life. His personification of the sky lends credence to the parallel he draws between the struggle of one's relationship with society as being analogous to one's struggle in a relationship. His evocation of the classic madonna/whore paradigm from the angelic woman in the clouds to one crawling at his feet reveals his confusion at the complexity of interpersonal dynamics in a world where class presupposes humanity.
I got that girl from overseas,
Now she my miss America,
I can’t help be her souljah pleaser,
I’m fighting for this girl,
In an effort to overcome the confusion over his role in relationships with the opposite sex, Sean redefines the archetype by narrowing the field. The allusion to the soldier away at war who, by the symbolism of uniform and mission, can become a de facto hero to the citizens he's trying to liberate becomes a dark irony when recalling the same types of downtrodden attitudes felt by the same people back home. An obvious moment of Sean shining the light on the hypocrisy of military recruitment in lower class communities where the mission becomes escapism as a uniform and gun becomes equated with power, only to evaporate upon the return home.
I’m in battlefield love,
Don’t it look like baby cupid sent his arrows from above,
Don’t you ever leave the side of me,
Indefinitely, now probably, and honestly get down like that, be proud of me,
Yeahhhhhh
Sean surrenders to this role of leaving home to become imbued with a sense of power by a rifle and a rank. Where, back home, the sky was falling down,while serving overseas there is now arrows of love showering down from the skies. We begin to realize very quickly that the woman in the song was really just a foil for his own sense of diffused empowerment. While he surely may have found a way out of the circumstances that he found himself in under the class struggles of a constricting economic system back home, the defined militaristic life has replaced that crutch with a new one: dependency. The duality of powerlessness rings true as the protagonist has substituted social dependency for personal dependency.
The supposed escape has failed. Sean moves the protagonist from one failed system to another. It's at this point we realize the eloquent refrain of the title throughout this song in spurring a reminiscence of the old wisdom which acknowledges that while you can climb out of a hole, you cannot dig out of one. In so doing, Sean completes this tragic tale with a faint recollection that seems more Beckett than Biggie.
Alice - Jersey girl - Red shoes by the drugstore. Step right up. Come on up to the house 'til the money runs out. Anywhere I lay my head, please wake me up. Please call me, baby. T'ain't no sin. Lie to me.
Poor Edward - telephone call from Istanbul... Better off without a wife. Fumblin' with the blues, bad liver and a broken heart. The piano has been drinking: Drunk on the moon.
Annie's back in town... Hang on St. Christopher! Pasties and a g-string (at the two o'clock club) - Watch her disappear way down in the hole: Johnsburg, Illinois.
Danny says Annie's back in town. So it goes. Chained together for life, the wages of love, drunk on the moon, This one's from the heart. Watch her disappear. A good man is hard to find.
Buzz Fledderjohn - in shades - 9th & Hennepin. Oily night. In between love. Gin-soaked boy. Christmas card from a hooker in Minneapolis, Nighthawk postcards (from easy street), 16 shells from a 30-ought-six, $29.00, A sweet little bullet from a pretty blue gun, Old shoes: A sight for sore eyes.
I'm still here Lucinda, Bride of Rain Dog, Big Black Mariah, all you zombies, This one's from the heart. Misery is the river of the world; God's away on business; Everything goes to hell - cemetery polka.
The ocean doesn't want me. I want you. Picking up after you, I wish I was in New Orleans.
No one knows I'm gone. We're all mad here.
Closing time. Hang me in the bottle.
So long I'll see ya. Looks like I'm up shit creek again.
