An old and angry wind

Thursday-the-pretender, wet and windy.  A yowling storm brewed up last night/very early this morning, the remnants of which are still dogging the morning commute. Thursday isn't going to fool anyone while wrapped in this weather.  It only accentuates the fact that he isn't really the end of the week, he isn't that most-popular dude Friday, and we know it.  The wind slammed against the side of the house last night, recalling the wind in A. E. Houseman's A Shropshire Lad XXXI:

The gale, it plies the saplings double,

      And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger

      When Uricon the city stood:

'Tis the old wind in the old anger,

      But then it threshed another wood.

Like that old wind from a Roman time freshly attacking the new woods of a later era, this was an experienced and angry wind that tantrumed in syncopated gusts, trying to confuse us with oddly timed bursts of breath, seeking to surprise and prise loose anything it could rip and tear.

There was nothing old or angry about this morning's music. On the cusp of lapping one full year of these (mostly) commute-playlist blog postings I still marvel at the way an iPod filled with 6000 or so tunes from a very wide variety of genres can randomly shuffle up a short playlist that is both interesting and yet well integrated.  Starting with The Beatles' We Can Work It Out (ultimately, they couldn't, of course) and ending with the instrumental/atmospheric rock of Explosion In The Sky makes for a richly transitioning landscape of music.  And I swear the first note of Kris Kristofferson's Help Me Make It Through the Night kicked in just before the final note of the previous Counting Crows tune (not possible, I know, but it really did sound like it).

Today's full playlist:

 - The Beatles: We Can Work It Out

 - Counting Crows: Catapult

 - Kris Kristofferson:  Help Me Make It Through the Night

 - Explosions In The Sky:  First Breath After Coma

Hardly at home to anyone

Wednesday, and very wet.  Forecasters tell us we should see lots of rain, especially up in this mountain ranges on either side of us.  That means, for many folks, flooding. When I started my short commute this morning the rain was misty with occasional very large drops kerwhacking down on the canvas top of the Miata.  The latter became more frequent until, by the time I reached campus, it was simply raining steadily.

If Wednesday is indeed Mr. Maleable, then I intend to mold him into a much-needed productive day with uninterrupted time to focus on a couple of outstanding projects.  As Wimsey says to Bunter on occasion, "I'm hardly at home to anyone."  Or, as the reclusive Garbo is supposed to have said, "I want to be let alone."  Let's see if Wednesday is that cooperatively moldable.  I have my doubts.

The music this morning was beautifully paired.  From the steering-wheel tap-along-ability of Jimmy Buffet to acoustic bluesy vintage Bruce Cockburn.  The first three tunes were related by their similar rhythm, though about as far away from each other as possible in terms of their lyrics.  Fountains of Wayne did their recent cover of the classic Burt Bacharach tune Trains & Boats & Planes, a big hit for Dionne Warwick back in 1966.

Each one of these tunes have well written lyrics and the last three can stand as excellent poetry even without the music.  Cockburn's If I Had a Rocket Launcher, one of his better known songs, makes the strongest stance of this group of tunes. Written in Chiapas Mexico in 1983, after visits to Guatemalan refugee camps (through OXFAM Canada) about the atrocities he saw being committed there.

Here comes the helicopter -- second time today

Everybody scatters and hopes it goes away

How many kids they've murdered only God can say

If I had a rocket launcher...I'd make somebody pay

Compare that with the much more laid-back narrative of Mama Just Wants To Barrel House All Night Long: 

I was up the road on easy street

Watching everybody stand around and cheat

A man comes up and says, "Move along

Down to the corner where you belong"

But mama just wants to barrelhouse all night long

I hear the city singing like a siren choir

Some fool tried to set this town on fire

TV preacher screams "come on along"

I feel like Fay Wray face to face with King Kong

But mama just wants to barrelhouse all night long

Hmmm.... seems to be a Cockburn lyric week for me so far.  Maybe the iPod is rewarding me for having noted two of his songs yesterday as well.

Today's full playlist:

 - Jimmy Buffett: Margaritaville

 - Fountains Of Wayne:  Trains & Boats & Planes

 - Bruce Cockburn: If I Had a Rocket Launcher

 - The Guggenheim Grotto: Map of the Human Heart

 - Bruce Cockburn: Mama Just Wants to Barrelhouse All Night Long

The weight of inherited sorrow

Tuesday, of this quiet(ish) week.  The campus sleeps, or large swaths of it do.  An in the Gershwin tune (paraphrased), "Summer time, and the parking is easy..." parking lots during this pre-spring-quarter break are mostly empty.  By this time next week we'll be back in full swing, though parking is never an issue for those of us silly enough to get here at 6:30 AM.

Yesterday was dearth of lyric poetry in the music my iPod selected, today was different. Most notably, the playlist finished up with the Bruce Cockburn tune The Rose Above The Sky, recorded on his 1980 album, Humans. This is lyric as poetry, or (more likely) poetry as lyric:

Something jeweled slips away
Round the next bend with a splash
Laughing at the hands I hold out
Only air within their grasp
All you can do is praise the razor
For the fineness of the slash

    'Til the Rose above the sky
    Opens
    And the light behind the sun
    Takes all

Gutless arrogance and rage
Burn apart the best of tries
You carry the weight of inherited sorrow
From your first day till you die
Toward that hilltop where the road
Forever becomes one with the sky

    'Til the Rose above the sky
    Opens
    And the light behind the sun
    Takes all

Ozone on the midnight wind
Got me thinking of the sea
And the mercies of the currents that brought
Me to you and you to me
And in the silence at the heart of things
Where all true meetings come to be

    'Til the Rose above the sky
    Opens
    And the light behind the sun
    Takes all

There are several phrases in this lyric that I particularly like, but the two that particularly resonate with me are, "all you can do is praise the razor for the fineness of the slash" and the stanza:

Gutless arrogance and rage
Burn apart the best of tries
You carry the weight of inherited sorrow
From your first day till you die
Toward that hilltop where the road
Forever becomes one with the sky

If ever a section of lyric could be used for race relations or conversations about institutionalized oppression, diversity, and cultural competency, this one applies.  It reminds me of another Cockburn song, Broken Wheel, from the 1981 album, Inner City Front in which he sings:

Way out on the rim of the galaxy
The gifts of the Lord lie torn
Into whose charge the gifts were given
Have made it a curse for so many to be born
This is my trouble --
These were my fathers
So how am I supposed to feel?
Way out on the rim of the broken wheel

Water of life is going to flow again
Changed from the blood of heroes and knaves
The word mercy's going to have a new meaning
When we are judged by the children of our slaves
No adult of sound mind
Can be an innocent bystander
Trial comes before truth's revealed
Out here on the rim of the broken wheel

You and me -- we are the break in the broken wheel
Bleeding wound that will not heal

We do carry the weight of inherited sorrow and the forefathers'-torn gifts of the Lord, and our historical (and contemporary) oppressions of others are certainly in that legacy, whether we want it or not.  Like the current generation that will have to face the wasted planet we are leaving behind, facing the consequences of the decisions of previous generations is not something we have the luxury of denying.  We can ignore it, but it doesn't go away.  There are no innocent bystanders, I can't be color blind, poverty blind, gender blind, or any other form of monkey-paws-over-eyes blind. "Into whose charge the gifts were given, have made it a curse for so many to be born, this is my trouble -- these were my fathers, so how am I supposed to feel?"  This makes as good an opening question for much-needed dialog as anything else I have heard.

And this, in my opinion, is the realized potential of good poetry and strongly-poetic song lyrics, that they hold up an introspective mirror and cause us to truly think.  Thinking is the thing the status quo fears most.  Fear of the power of critical thinking is one reason we continue to underfund education in a country where the vast majority of power and resources are enjoyed by a relative few. The process is institutional.  As in the Matrix, once you see it, you can't ever go back to pretending it's not there.

Today's full playlist:

 - Dusty Springfield: I Only Want to Be With You
 - Amy MacDonald: L.A.
 - Pixies:  Monkey Gone To Heaven
 - Patrick Cassidy: Naoise son of Uisnech
 - Bruce Cockburn: The Rose Above The Sky

Monday brought out the banal lyrics

Monday. Again. It seems like it was just Monday a couple of days ago, too.  The forecast has us stuck in a loop of cloudy-with-rain weather.  If this weekend is any indication, it will be cloudy, then pour down rain like there is no tomorrow, followed by a short-but-glorious sun break, then clouds, then.... repeat.

Regardless, even a wet and grey Monday brings a new week and a (somewhat) fresh start. The campus is still on break this week, so it will be quiet across campus.  We should also hear, this week, what the House thinks the state budget ought to look like.  Then we wait for the Senate budget to roll in, and then begins the reconciliation between those and the Governor's budget to see where we finally end up.

Today's music was comprised of a short, but wide-ranging, playlist.  Short, meaning only four tunes.  Wide-ranging in that it covered rock, soul/hip-hop, and country-folk.  The Living Sisters were the latter, with an annoying tune that features beautiful harmonizing and parochial lyrics.  With shades of the last scene in the Wizard of Ox, they sing about not ever letting the sun go down without being in their own home town. A sure-fire recipe for xenophobia and insular thinking.

My Mourning Jacket, usually good for both vocals and lyrics, sang an equally nonsensical bit of lyric this morning (though great musicianship on the tune):

A kitten on fire, a baby in a blender
Both sound as sweet as a night of surrender
I know it ain't easy but you do what you can
If your livin' gets wheezy, you can follow this plan

and...

A good shower head and my right hand
The two best lovers that I ever had
Now if you find you agree with what I just said
You'd better find a new love and let 'em into your head

OK, it's clearly not a morning for good lyrics/poetry, certainly not on that note!

Fountains of Wayne, a group that you can almost always count on for clever lyrics, gave up an unusually banal bit of lyric.  The only exception this morning was the Ben-Ari tune Sunshine to the Rain. Even here I can't tell if it's rich and powerful street poetry or just stretching for a rhyme.  Both, in different place, I suspect.  At least those lyrics gave me something to think about on the way in.

In other music-related news, my iTunes library went AWOL last night. The library is there, all the songs are still listed, but over half of them can no longer be found.  I also note that the remote drive the library is stored on has been renamed (?!?).  I have tried restoring from a recent back-up, but get the same result.  I don't know what to make of it at this point.  I have the library backed up, but am clearly going to have to spend more time figuring out how to restore it.  Then comes the bit of trying to figure out what happened to cause this issue in the first place. Of course, this happened Sunday evening, rather than Friday, when I would have had the weekend to work on it.  Grrrrr.....!

Today's full playlist:

 - Fountains Of Wayne: You're Just Never Satisfied
 - Miri Ben-Ari: Sunshine to the Rain
 - My Morning Jacket: Into the Woods
 - The Living Sisters: Don't Let the Sun Go Down

Karmic coincidence came with the popular dude

Three cheers for the popular dude; we've nearly made it through another hectic week!  It has been an odd week, in that it has been somewhat out-of-schedule for me. This morning was an extra-early-alarm day so I could drive to the Everett Navy Station to pick up the son of good friends and get him to the airport in time to catch a 7:00 AM departure, flying home to see his folks and family. Driving to Everett at o-dark-hundred the rain was slamming down.  Even on the side streets getting to the freeway the rain drops were large enough and landing hard enough to sound like small pebbles hitting the canvas top, and at freeway speeds it was all wave and wash.  By the time I met the referenced sailor at the pick-up lot just outside the base, the rain had slackened and wasn't bad for the rest of the commute south and then back north. Thanks given for that.

Because of the extra-long commute this morning there is a correspondingly long play list.  Since most of the trip was given over to catching up on said sailor's latest deployment, I only picked the soundtrack up when I left the airport for the drive back north to campus.  So today's playlist represents the length of a more typical commute than is my normal.  Lots of good music, covering pretty much every genre, and not a bad egg in the whole bunch.

Paring the very-different keyboard stylings of Supertramp and Cannonball Adderley made for a fun start to the trip, The Bad Plus got feet and fingers tapping as they laid "...a strip for the higher-state line," and the Spamalot soundtrack soared with well orchestrated silliness.  The soundtrack for the Russian film Brother, 2 offered up a beautiful minor-key folk tune sung by a children's choir.

Then, in one of those supreme cosmic, karmic, divine coincidences, the last tune to pop up in this morning's random shuffle was from the BMW Band, the living-room "band" two buddies and I had many years ago. The digitally remastered tracks, taken from old dusty cassette tapes recorded on cheap equipment in various living rooms, were a Christmas gift from the daughter of one of my band-mates. And the sailor I shuttled to the airport this morning? The son of one of my two BMW band-mates, and the brother of the daughter who had those old recording remastered. Here's hoping he remembers to give his folks a hug from us when he gets home later this morning!

The full playlist:

 - Supertramp: Bloody Well Right
 - Cannonball Adderley:  Mercy, Mercy, Mercy
 - Bruce Cockburn: Kit Carson
 - Joel Frahm & Brad Mehldau: Smile
 - Bruce Cockburn: Pacing the Cage (Live)
 - The Bad Plus:  Layin' A Strip For The Higher-State Line
 - Philip Glass: Mvt. IV - Concerto for Saxophone Quartet
 - Great Northern:  Winter
 - Weezer: Say It Ain't So
 - Spamalot, Broadway Cast: Find Your Grail
 - Nautilus Pompilius and Children's Choir (Брат 2 Soundtrack): Прощальное письмо
 - BMW Band: Gentle Man

Lord of the Starfields

I can't believe it's Thursday already.  The pretender has snuck up on me and, given how compressed this week has felt, I'm having to fight falling under Thursday's spell.  But Thursday isn't Friday, and it sure isn't Saturday, so I must press on.  Looks like another beautiful day is queued up.  After I got out of my car and was walking toward my office building this morning it dawned on me (no pun intended) that I should have had the top down on the drive in today.  I'm still in the-dark-of-winter mode, I guess.  I have gotten out of the habit of checking the skies as I roll out of the garage and having the option to even consider dropping the top.  Early morning and late evening are my two favorite times of day for going topless, too. If the weather holds - tomorrow!

With one exception, another exceptional mix of music on the iPod this morning.  The songs followed each other in one of those feels-tailor-made playlist progressions that, once upon a time ago, the very best radio DJs took pride in crafting. Following Train's My Private Nation, almost rock anthem-esque in flavor, with Belle and Sebastian is genius. Then tossing in a later recording of a vintage Cockburn tune like Lord of the Starfields right after that: even more genius.  Good job iPod!

Lord of the Starfields is one of the earliest Bruce Cockburn tunes I dove into, and remains one of my favorites.  It showcases both his guitar prowess and the strength of his imagery and poetry in songwriting (to view a short YouTube video of him singing this song live, with rather poor audio quality).  How can you not appreciate lyrics like this:

Lord of the starfields
Ancient of Days
Universe Maker
Here's a song in your praise

Wings of the storm cloud
Beginning and end
You make my heart leap
Like a banner in the wind

O love that fires the sun
Keep me burning.
Lord of the starfields
Sower of life,
Heaven and earth are
Full of your light

Voice of the nova
Smile of the dew
All of our yearning
Only comes home to you

O love that fires the sun
keep me burning

Such good stuff.  If you want to watch a better video, check out this YouTube recording of Bruce doing a live acoustic performance of Lovers in a Dangerous Time with Stephen Page (from Barenaked Ladies, who recorded a cover of this tune) from a Music Without Borders concert to benefit 9/11 victims, check out this link.

The only jarring moment in today's playlist happened just as I was pulling into campus when the soft jazz guitar playing of John Stowell was followed by the suddenly crunchy opening cords of the Electric Owls.  Those two tracks should not follow each other!

The full playlist:

 - Train: My Private Nation
 - Belle and Sebastian: Storytelling
 - Bruce Cockburn: Lord of the Starfields
 - John Stowell:  How Deep Is The Ocean
 - Electric Owls: Halloween Mask

Hawaiian Virginia Adaptation

Wednesday, the malleable day of the week, rolls in with a big bright moon and very slight cloud cover.  Looks like another day of spring-blue skies!  I presented at a conference yesterday, with a couple of colleagues, and commuted into Seattle in the passenger seat.  Consequently, collegial conversation replaced the usual soundtrack and conference activities replaced the usual blog entry.

As I get close to lapping one year of this daily commute-music (mostly) blog experiment I am looking forward to looking back over a year of randomly selected music from my iPod.  Considering it holds close to 6000 songs from a wide variety of musicians, my sense is that I have seen only a fraction of this music, and a lot of that quite regularly.  While I understand that the law of averages doesn't require anything in particular to happen, or demand that any particular song will pop up every so often, it does seem (just going by very-faulty memory here) that my iPod has its favorites and, just maybe, doesn't play totally fair with all the songs stored below deck.

Notwithstanding, it was a great playlist this morning. Really nicely varied and steering-wheel-tap-worthy.  Israel Kamakawiwo'ole (IZ), best known for his medley of Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful Life from this same album, sang his rendition of the John Denver tune, Take Me Home Country Road. It has an upbeat island rhythm and the lyric has been modified to reflect island landmarks and culture.  Not knowing the Hawaiian alterations nearly as well as the original lyrics, but being easily drawn into this well-known tune, I happy sang about Virginia's country roads while IZ sang of Hawaii's.  It worked just fine.

The full playlist:

 - The Shins: So Says I
 - Israel Kamakawiwo'ole: Take Me Home Country Road
 - Jónsi: Grow Till Tall
 - Terence Blanchard: Flow, Pt. 3