philosophy in song

One of my favorite Nick Cave lyrics is “The Weeping Song”:

[b]Go son, go down to the water
And see the women weeping there
Then go up into the mountains
The men, they are weeping too

Father, why are all the women weeping?
They are weeping for their men
Then why are all the men there weeping?
They are weeping back at them

This is a weeping song
A song in which to weep
While all the men and women sleep
This is a weeping song
But I won’t be weeping long

Father, why are all the children weeping?
They are merely crying son
O, are they merely crying, father?
Yes, true weeping is yet to come

This is a weeping song
A song in which to weep
While all the men and women sleep
This is a weeping song
But I won’t be weeping long

O father tell me, are you weeping?
Your face seems wet to touch
O then I’m so sorry, father
I never thought I hurt you so much

This is a weeping song
A song in which to weep
While we rock ourselves to sleep
This is a weeping song
But I won’t be weeping long
But I won’t be weeping long
But I won’t be weeping long
But I won’t be weeping long[/b]

Also, Nick Cave’s “[I’ll Love You] 'Til the End of the World” from the soundtrack of the movie Until the End of the World:

[b]It was a miracle I even got outta Longwood alive,
This town fulla men with big mouths and no guts,
I mean, if you can just picture it,
The whole third floor of the hotel gutted by the blast,
And the street below showered in shards of broken glass,
And all the drunks pourin’ outta the dance halls,
Starin’ up at the smoke and the flames,
And the blind pencil seller wavin’ his stick,
Shoutin’ for his dog that lay dead on the side of the road,
And me, if you can believe this, at the wheel of the car
Closin my eyes and actually prayin’,
Not to God above, but to you, sayin’,

Help me girl, help me girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

Some things we plan, we sit and we invent and we plot and cook up,
Others are works of inspiration, of poetry,
And it was this genius hand that pushed me up the hotel stairs
To say my last goodbye,
To her hair white as snow, and her pale blue eyes,
Sayin “I gotta go, I gotta go, the bomb and the bread basket
Are ready to blow,”
In this town of men with big mouths and no guts,
The pencil seller’s dog spooked by the explosion
And leapin’ under my wheels as I careered outta Longwood on my way to you,
Waitin in your dress, in your dress of blue

I said thank you girl, thank you girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls

And with the horses prancin’ through the fields,
With my knife in my jeans and the rain on the shield,
I sang a song for the glory of the beauty of you,
Waitin for me in your dress of blue

Thank you girl, thank you girl
I’ll love you till the end of the world
With your eyes black as coal and your long dark curls[/b]

With the weeping song what is it that’s making them weep? A general sentiment of all life’s iniquities?

One more nick cave song as this is my favourite, it sums up an emotional state though it perhaps purposefully doesn’t do that purely by the lyric, it’s the impression one gets of it. For example, when he says ‘The worlds spinning beneath me, Ma’ it’s a feeling that goes with the title of the song, that somehow we just get taken places. This song is particularly good in his live video from a gig in France; ‘live at le transbordeur’ [songs mostly from the ‘no more shall we part’ album [my favourite] and ‘let love in’ [most other peoples favourite].

When we came along this road

I left by the back door
With my wife’s lover’s smoking gun
I don’t know what I was hoping for
I hit the road at a run
I was your lover
I was your man
There never was no other
I was your friend
Till we came along this road
Till we came along this road
Till we came along this road

I ain’t sent you no letters, Ma
But I’m looking quite a trip
The world spinning beneath me, Ma
Guns blazing at my hip
You were my lover
You were my friend
There never was no other
On whom I could depend
Then we came along this road
We came along this road
We came along this road

_

It is the distinction he makes between weeping and “merely crying”—analogous perhaps to the distinction some make between boredom and ennui. Or sadness and despair.

When you reach the point where you weep over “the human condition” you have truly become immersed in it.

But this is, once again, something relevant only to particular lives. There are obviously folks who will not have a fucking clue as to why anyone would weep over that. Life is just grand, thank you.

Their own, for example.

xtc’s “Dear God”:

[b]Dear God, hope you got the letter, and…
I pray you can make it better down here.
I don’t mean a big reduction in the price of beer
but all the people that you made in your image, see
them starving on their feet 'cause they don’t get
enough to eat from God, I can’t believe in you

Dear God, sorry to disturb you, but… I feel that I should be heard
loud and clear. We all need a big reduction in amount of tears
and all the people that you made in your image, see them fighting
in the street 'cause they can’t make opinions meet about God,
I can’t believe in you

Did you make disease, and the diamond blue? Did you make
mankind after we made you? And the devil too!

Dear God, don’t know if you noticed, but… your name is on
a lot of quotes in this book, and us crazy humans wrote it, you
should take a look, and all the people that you made in your
image still believing that junk is true. Well I know it ain’t, and
so do you, dear God, I can’t believe in I don’t believe in

I won’t believe in heaven and hell. No saints, no sinners, no
devil as well. No pearly gates, no thorny crown. You’re always
letting us humans down. The wars you bring, the babes you
drown. Those lost at sea and never found, and it’s the same the
whole world 'round. The hurt I see helps to compound that
Father, Son and Holy Ghost is just somebody’s unholy hoax,
and if you’re up there you’d perceive that my heart’s here upon
my sleeve. If there’s one thing I don’t believe in

it’s you…[/b]

Ah I see now, it reminds me of karma police video by radiohead [I think its that track] ~ where a guy is lead on the pavement, people come up to him and he says he cant tell them what’s wrong. Eventually he does - they all end up lead on the pavement!

Great old band, great track ~ somewhat reliant on a god who‘s a puppet master/interventionist. I remember ‘making plans for Nigel’ - in fact it was on the radio the other day. …‘black sea’ was a rather fine album.
_

Three of a kind:

Ten Years After, “Circles”

[b]Life is going around in circles
Wonder will it ever end
If I die, baby, will you miss me
Or just find another friend
Does it matter what I do
Live life right or bear a grudge?
Does it matter what I do
Is there anyone to judge?

I have been to many places
I have journeyed through the mind
Though I’ve found some different faces
Another answer I can’t find
Does it matter what I do
Is there anyone to say?
Does it matter what I do
Is there any other way?

I have got what I once dreamed of
As a child, so long ago
But my life just goes in circles
'Cause one answer I don’t know
Does it matter what I do
Who will hear me if I cry?
Does it matter what I do
Does it matter if I die?[/b]

Paul Simon, “Patterns”

[b]The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child’s uneven scrawL

Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow Little room,
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom.
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me.

From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death,
There are Patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath.
Like a rat in a maze
The path before me lies,
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies.

And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell,
And it’s fitting that it should,
For in darknesss I must dwell.
Like the color of my skin,
Or the day that I grow old,
My life is made of Patterns
That can scarcely be controlled.[/b]

Don Mclean, “Dreidel”

[b]I feel like a spinning top or a Dreidel
The spinning don’t stop when you leave the cradle
You just slow down
Round and around this world you go
Spinning through the lives of the people you know
We all slow down
How you gonna keep on turning from day to day?
How you gonna keep from turning your life away?

No days you can borrow, no time you can buy.
No trust in tomorrow. It’s a lie.

I feel like a spinning top or a dreidel.
The spinning don’t stop when you leave the cradle.
You just slow down.
Round and around this world you go
Spinning through the lives of the people you know.
We all slow down.
How you gonna keep on turning from day to day? Oh…
How you gonna keep from turning your life away?

And I feel like I’m dippin’ and divin’.
My sky shoes are spiked with lead heels.
I’m lost in this star car I’m drivin’.
But my air sole keeps pushin’ big wheels.
My world is a constant confusion.
My mind is prepared to attack.
My past - a persuasive illusion.
I’m watchin’ the future it’s black.
What do you know?
You know just what you perceive.
What can you show?
Nothing of what you believe.
And as you grow, each thread of life that you leave
Will spin around your deeds and dictate your needs
As you sell your soul and you sow your seeds
And you wound yourself and your loved one bleed
And your habits grow, and your conscience feeds
On all that you thought you should be
I never thought this could happen to me.

I feel like a spinning top or a dreidel.
The spinning don’t stop when you leave the cradle.
You just slow down.
Round and around the world you go
Spinning through the lives of the people you know.
We all slow down.
How you gonna keep on turning from day to day?
How you gonna keep from turning your life away? Oh…

I feel like a spinning top or a dreidel.
The spinning don’t stop when you leave the cradle.
You just slow down.
You just slow down.
You just slow down.[/b]

U2: Until the End of the World

In my dream I was drowning my sorrows
But my sorrows, they learned to swim
Surrounding me, going down on me
Spilling over the brim…

A lyric from…who? I don’t know. It’s a song from a collection of New Wave stuff. Not sure if I got all the words right. Tried google to no avail.

[b]In the maze I am a loner
In the maze I am distraught
A human commodity sold and bought…

Wound up like animal entrails
Bound up like human brains
Wallowing in these solemn games…

In the maze I have a new part
Up upon the late great dream
In a script scripting one last self love scene…

Everyday a new opponent
Everyday a different danger
Oh how I depend on the kindness of strangers…[/b]

“Prople Who Died” by the The Jim Carroll Band

[b]Teddy sniffing glue, he was 12 years old
Fell from the roof on East Two-nine
Cathy was 11 when she pulled the plug
On 26 reds and a bottle of wine
Bobby got leukemia, 14 years old
He looked like 65 when he died
He was a friend of mine

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died

G-berg and Georgie let their gimmicks go rotten
So they died of hepatitis in upper Manhattan
Sly in Vietnam took a bullet in the head
Bobby OD’d on Drano on the night that he was wed
They were two more friends of mine
Two more friends that died

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died

Mary took a dry dive from a hotel room
Bobby hung himself from a cell in the tombs
Judy jumped in front of a subway train
Eddie got slit in the jugular vein
And Eddie, I miss you more than all the others
And I salute you brother

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died

Herbie pushed Tony from the Boys’ Club roof
Tony thought that his rage was just some goof
But Herbie sure gave Tony some bitchen proof
“Hey,” Herbie said, “Tony, can you fly?”
But Tony couldn’t fly, Tony died

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died

Brian got busted on a narco rap
He beat the rap by rattin’ on some bikers
He said, “Hey, I know it’s dangerous, but it sure beats Riker’s”
But the next day he got offed by the very same bikers

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=9QPaektjd6w

I’m gonna learn ya my philosophy. - STP

Leonard Cohen’s “The Partisan”

[b]When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender,
this I could not do;
I took my gun and vanished.
I have changed my name so often,
I’ve lost my wife and children
but I have many friends,
and some of them are with me.

An old woman gave us shelter,
kept us hidden in the garret,
then the soldiers came;
she died without a whisper.

There were three of us this morning
I’m the only one this evening
but I must go on;
the frontiers are my prison.

Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
through the graves the wind is blowing,
freedom soon will come;
then we’ll come from the shadows.

Les Allemands e’taient chez moi, (The Germans were at my home)
ils me dirent, “Signe toi,” (They said, “Sign yourself,”)
mais je n’ai pas peur; (But I am not afraid)
j’ai repris mon arme. (I have retaken my weapon.)

J’ai change’ cent fois de nom, (I have changed names a hundred times)
j’ai perdu femme et enfants (I have lost wife and children)
mais j’ai tant d’amis; (But I have so many friends)
j’ai la France entie`re. (I have all of France)

Un vieil homme dans un grenier (An old man, in an attic)
pour la nuit nous a cache’, (Hid us for the night)
les Allemands l’ont pris; (The Germans captured him)
il est mort sans surprise. (He died without surprise.)

Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
through the graves the wind is blowing,
freedom soon will come;
then we’ll come from the shadows.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=GpgRpENyt4c

John Lennon’s “Working Class Hero”

[b]As soon as you’re born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you’re clever and they despise a fool
Till you’re so fucking crazy you can’t follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be

When they’ve tortured and scared you for twenty-odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can’t really function you’re so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you’re so clever and classless and free
But you’re still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be

There’s room at the top they’re telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill

A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=njG7p6CSbCU

youtube.com/watch?v=Wlnl3CGG56M

Leonard Cohen’s “Dress Rehearsal Rag”

[b]Four o’clock in the afternoon
And I didn’t feel like very much.
I said to myself, “Where are you golden boy,
Where is your famous golden touch?”
I thought you knew where
All of the elephants lie down,
I thought you were the crown prince
Of all the wheels in Ivory Town.

Just take a look at your body now,
There’s nothing much to save
And a bitter voice in the mirror cries,
“Hey, Prince, you need a shave.”

Now if you can manage to get
Your trembling fingers to behave,
Why don’t you try unwrapping
A stainless steel razor blade?

That’s right, it’s come to this,
Yes it’s come to this,
And wasn’t it a long way down,
Wasn’t it a strange way down?

There’s no hot water
And the cold is running thin.
Well, what do you expect from
The kind of places you’ve been living in?

Don’t drink from that cup,
It’s all caked and cracked along the rim.
That’s not the electric light, my friend,
That is your vision growing dim.

Cover up your face with soap, there,
Now you’re Santa Claus.
And you’ve got a gift for anyone
Who will give you his applause.

I thought you were a racing man,
Ah, but you couldn’t take the pace.
That’s a funeral in the mirror
And it’s stopping at your face.

That’s right, it’s come to this,
Yes it’s come to this,
And wasn’t it a long way down,
Ah wasn’t it a strange way down?

Once there was a path
And a girl with chestnut hair,
And you passed the summers
Picking all of the berries that grew there
There were times she was a woman,
Oh, there were times she was just a child,
And you held her in the shadows
Where the raspberries grow wild.

And you climbed the twilight mountains
And you sang about the view,
And everywhere that you wandered
Love seemed to go along with you.
That’s a hard one to remember,
Yes it makes you clench your fist.

And then the veins stand out like highways,
All along your wrist.
And yes it’s come to this,
It’s come to this,
And wasn’t it a long way down,
Wasn’t it a strange way down?

You can still find a job,
Go out and talk to a friend.
On the back of every magazine
There are those coupons you can send.
Why don’t you join the Rosicrucians,
They can give you back your hope,
You can find your love with diagrams
On a plain brown envelope.

But you’ve used up all your coupons
Except the one that seems
To be written on your wrist
Along with several thousand dreams.

Now Santa Claus comes forward,
That’s a razor in his mit
And he puts on his dark glasses
And he shows you where to hit
And then the cameras pan,
The stand in stunt man,
Dress rehearsal rag,
It’s just the dress rehearsal rag,
You know this dress rehearsal rag,
It’s just a dress rehearsal rag.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=Er-8lG6wYdk

Bruce Cockburn’s “Silver Wheels”

[b]High speed drift on a prairie road
Hot tires sing like a string being bowed
Sudden town rears up then explodes
Fragments resolve into white line code
Whirl on silver wheels

Black earth energy receptor fields
Undulate under a grey cloud shield
We outrun a river colour brick red mud
That cleaves apart hills soil rich as blood

Highway squeeze in construction steam
Stop caution hard hat yellow insect machines
Silver steel towers stalk rolling land
Toward distant stacks that shout “Feed on demand”

100 miles later the sky has changed
Urban anticipation – we get 4 lanes
Red orange furnace sphere notches down
Throws up silhouette skyline in brown

Sundogs flare on windshield glass
Sudden swoop skyward iron horse overpass
Pass a man walking like the man in the moon
Walking like his head’s full of irish fiddle tunes

The skin around every city looks the same
Miles of flat neon spelling well-known names
USED TRUCKS DIRTY DONUTS YOU YOU’RE THE ONE
Fat wheeled cars squeal into the sun

Radio speakers gargle top 40 trash
Muzak soundtrack to slow collapse
Planet engines pulsate in sidereal time
If you listen close you can hear the whine[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=z-avqJQwOoo

“Mad World” from Donnie Darko

[b]All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles its a very, very
Mad world, mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday, happy birthday
And I feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen

Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me, what’s my lesson?
Look right through me, look right through me

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles its a very, very
Mad world, mad world, enlarging your world
Mad world[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=T1_4e7gFBDw&t=5s

And the next step is to…

Dump the philosophy, poetry and lyrics, and enjoy the music.

What can Mick Jagger sing that can compete with a Keith Richards guitar lick?

Well, let’s just say the music you hear and the music I hear is the music embedded in dasein.

I can imagine listening to, say, “Wild Horses” with or without Mick’s lyrics:

[b]Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted, I bought them for you
Graceless lady, you know who I am
You know I can’t let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn’t drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn’t drag me away

I know I’ve dreamed you, a sin and a lie
I have my freedom but I don’t have much time
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried
Let’s do some living, after we die

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses, we’ll ride them some day
Wild horses couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses, we’ll ride them some day[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=QhwwCWkmYoc

But it’s not the same “message” being conveyed. When the words and the music “fit” the experience [for me] is considerably more satisfying.

Joan Baez “Diamonds and Rust”
[to bob dylan]

[b]Well I’ll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that’s not unusual
It’s just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I’d known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin’s eggs
My poetry was lousy you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest
Ten years ago
I bought you some cufflinks
You brought me something
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

Well you burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms
And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing
With brown leaves falling around
And snow in your hair
Now you’re smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square
Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you’re telling me
You’re not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
Because I need some of that vagueness now
It’s all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you’re offering me diamonds and rust
I’ve already paid[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=bpD5_c2j1OM

My college girlfriend recently stumbled upon my utterly pathetic Facebook page and contacted me via email. We’ve been reviewing our year together from a distance of 40 years since passed. A strangely wonderful experience, which I can only compare to reviewing one’s life from beyond the grave.

Joan Baez speaks of “a couple of light years ago” by which she probably was referring to only a decade or so. I remember that song coming out very well, and she just wasn’t that old. Hopefully by now the rust has finally faded, and it’s all just diamonds between her and Bob.

A great song, and a great example of tentative’s stated love of the dance between music and lyrics.

Ok, just watched the video. Damn, that really is a good song. I’d forgotten how good. And yes, I have to agree, the lyrics are indispensable. Thanks Tent! Perfect timing for me as well…

PS: The YouTube button in the post control panel will put the vids right in the post, if that’s desired.