philosophy in song

Well, if you’ll review the Dylan quote…

You’ll see he’s not actually offering to trade anything to go back. That seems honest and accurate.

The way it works is, you want to take everything you’ve learned, and go back and do it over again, but different this time, better. That is, you want to leave out the ignorance, the very thing that made it fun in the first place. It’s an utterly incoherent emotion, but it makes for good art, or a rainy day reminiscence.

Your first lover. What made it so special? Ignorance.

And what makes the rainy day reminiscence so fun? Ignorance, a willful forgetting of what a pain in the ass ignorance really was.

He is not offering anything because he knows he can’t: “if I could”.

If he could, what would he give up? What would I give up? What would you?

They say youth is wasted on the young. But occasionally you come upon someone and that is not true at all. What would you give up then?

I think: fuck everything I’ve learned. I’ll give that up too. And so, I suspect, would Bob.

Ok, good point.

Well, these are excellent questions, though I apologize I have no song lyrics to illuminate them. Hmm…

Speaking as a village elder, age 60, it seems I’m first required to admit and agree there is a psychological pull of nostalgia, a vague yearning to go back. Oh, I have a movie reference at least, Peggy Sue Got Married, perhaps the best movie ever on this subject?

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peggy_Sue_Got_Married

But there’s a lot of rose colored glasses involved, at least in my case. Of the 6 decades I’ve lived, my twenties were the worse. Not that there weren’t many great things, but overall on balance, the least fun decade. Lots of confusion about career and love etc, the usual stuff. If like Bob Dylan I’d been at the peak of a glamorous career at age 22, well perhaps that’s different.

Emotionally I vote for indulging the nostalgia in casual non-serious way. It can be fun, why not?

But when the buzz from that second glass of wine passes and reality returns, I vote for embracing the rust, welcoming the coming dust, and trusting the system as it is. I’m not trading that in on another round of muddled confusion, thanks anyway.

In a pathetic pitch for my virtual reality thread, what if we could go back for just a bit, like in Peggy Sue Got Married? What if I could pop a program in to my Holodeck, and spend another day age 20 with my college girlfriend? Would I run that program at least once? Yes, I believe I would.

And that would probably kill off the sweet nostalgia. Oops…

I don’t see nostalgia figuring in here at all. Bob wants to go back because he is getting closer and closer to oblivion. Youth takes you farther and farther away from that. There are things worse than death of course but I suspect Bob is more than willing to take his chances—“if he could”. And I suspect he would trade places with those young folks even if all that he was then becomes all that they are now.

But, of course, he can’t.

youtube.com/watch?v=Y93lEsrYwro

Gregg Allman “Queen of Hearts”

[b]Once I was glad,
Always happy never sad,
And every day
Felt like Sunday
And although things were slow
Never seemed to have no dough
Somehow, I never once got lonely
Ya’ see the fact is more or less
You’re gamblin’ with your own happiness
And most all your would be friends
Turn out so phoney

Oh but times they change
And Im through the rains
And Im seein the Queen of Hearts
Dont know where to start
Or how to stop

And after things have come and gone
Left me feelin’
That I’ve done so wrong
Oh, I’ve wasted so much time
Feelin’ guilty
And as I watch you sit across the room
Beautiful as the flowers bloom
Living it just one day
Oh brother youre gonna come back
To find me gone

I love you queen of Hearts
Tell me not to stop
Just tell me where
To start
Where now baby
Tell me where to start

And after all that weve been through
I find that when I think of you
A warm soft wind runs
through and through
And in my heart
theres only you
And I will always keep on trying
To gather this strange piece of mind
Without it thered be
Lonely me and
Oh darlin lonely you

I love you Queen of Hearts
Dont tell me when to stop
Tell me when to start

I love you queen of Hearts
Tell me not to stop
Just tell me where
To start[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=iyrFpR59_vQ

The Clash “Lose This Skin”

[b]Come with me. I won’t hide
We’re going on a ride
We meet each day, use time to see
While we’re young and almost free

I’ve got to lose this skin I’m imprisoned in
Got to lose this skin I’m imprisoned in

Do not turn or hate to see
All the things you think we’ve got
Do not turn or hate to see
What happened to the wife of Lot

We’re alone or so they say
We’re not on our own in that way
When we’re alone it’s real tough going
We TEND TO take a part in someone else’s play

Come with me, I thought he said
But that’s not him anymore, he’s dead
What’s it like to be so free
So free it looks like lost to me[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=CtWdVX6LS8w

Bob wants to go back because he has no idea WTF he’s getting closer to? Bob doesn’t trust the system, and assumes he can do a better job of managing things? Yea, that sounds like Bob I guess.

And now you’re on to Gregg Allman. Damn, you got me nailed dude.

Not at all sure what you mean. Why? Just lucky I guess.

Buffy Sainte-Marie “God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot”
words by Leonard Cohen

[b]God is alive, magic is afoot
God is alive, magic is afoot
God is alive, magic is afoot
God is afoot, magic is alive
Alive is afoot, magic never died
God never sickened
Many poor men lied
Many sick men lied
Magic never weakened
Magic never hid
Magic always ruled
God is afoot, God never died
God was ruler
Though his funeral lengthened
Though his mourners thickened
Magic never fled
Though his shrouds were hoisted
The naked God did live
Though his words were twisted
The naked magic thrived
Though his death was published
Round and round the world
The heart did not believe

Many hurt men wondered
Many struck men bled
Magic never faltered
Magic always lead
Many stones were rolled
But God would not lie down
Many wild men lied
Many fat men listened
Though they offered stones
Magic still was fed
Though they locked their coffers
God was always served
Magic is afoot, God is alive
Alive is afoot

Alive is in command
Many weak men hungered
Many strong men thrived
Though they boast of solitude
God was at their side
Nor the captain on the hill
Magic is alive
Though his death was pardoned
Round and round the world
The heart would not believe

Though laws were carved in marble
They could not shelter men
Though altars built in parliaments
They could not order men
Police arrested magic and
magic went with them
Mmmmm… for magic loves the hungry
But magic would not tarry
It moves from arm to arm
It would not stay with them
Magic is afoot
It cannot come to harm
It rests in an empty palm
It spawns in an empty mind
But magic is no instrument
Magic is the end
Many men drove magic
But magic stayed behind
Many strong men lied
They only passed through magic
And out the other side
Many weak men lied
They came to God in secret
And though they left Him nourished
They would not tell who healed
Though mountains danced before them
They said that God was dead
Though his shrouds were hoisted
The naked God did live
This I mean to whisper to my mind
This I mean to laugh within my mind
This I mean my mind to serve
Til’ service is but magic
Moving through the world
And mind itself is magic
Coursing through the flesh
And flesh itself is magic
Dancing on a clock
And time itself
The magic length of God[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=FhmeroR20lc

GOLDWATCH BLUES
Donovan

[b]I went up for my interview on the fourth day of July.
First old man he questioned me until I nearly cried,
Made me fill in forms until I shook with fear
About the colour of my toilet roll and if my cousin’s queer.

CHORUS:

Here’s your goldwatch and the shackles for your chain
And your piece of paper to say you left here sane.
And if you’ve a son who wants a good career
Just get him to sign on the dotted line and work for fifty
years.

He asked me how many jobs I’d had before.
He nearly had a heart attack when I answered, four.
Four jobs in twenty years, oh, this can never be
We only take on men who work until they die.

CHORUS.

He took me outside to where the gravestones stand in line.
This is where we bury them in quick-stone and in lime
And if you come to work for us on this you must agree,
That if you’re going to die please do it during tea.

CHORUS.

This story that you heard you may think rather queer
But it is the truth you’ll be surprised to hear.
I did not want no job upon the board,
I just wanted to take a broom and sweep the bloody floor.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=BHg__kkXKY4

HANDSOME JOHNNY
Richie Havens

[b]Hey, look yonder, tell me what’s that you see
Marching to the fields of Concord?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with a musket in his hand
Marching to the Concord war, hey, marching to the Concord war

Hey, look yonder, tell me what’s that you see
Marching to the fields of Gettysburg?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with a flintlock in his hand
Marching to the Gettysburg war, hey, marching to the Gettysburg war

Hey, it’s a long hard road, it’s a long hard road
It’s a long hard road, hey, before we’ll be free

Hey, look yonder, tell me what you see
Marching to the fields of Dunkirk?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with a carbine in his hand
Marching to the Dunkirk war, hey, marching to the Dunkirk war
Hey, look yonder, tell me what you see
Marching to the fields of Korea?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with an M1 in his hand
Marching to the Korean war, hey, marching to the Korean war

Hey, it’s a long hard road, it’s a long hard road
It’s a long hard road, hey, before we’ll be free
Hey, before we’ll be free

Hey, look yonder, tell me what you see
Marching to the fields of Vietnam?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with an M15
Marching to the Vietnam war, hey, marching to the Vietnam war

Hey, look yonder, tell me what you see
Marching to the fields of Birmingham?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with his hand rolled in a fist
Marching to the Birmingham war, hey, marching to the Birmingham war

Hey, what’s the use of singing this song
Some of you are not even listening
Tell me what it is we’ve got to do, wait for our fields to start glistening
Hey, wait for the bullets to start whistling

Hey, here comes a hydrogen bomb and here comes a guided missile
Here comes a hydrogen bomb, I can almost hear its whistle
I can almost hear its whistle[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=kwdyr9Ceh6Q

THE JEWELER
This Mortal Coil

[b]The jeweler has a shop on the corner of the boulevard
In the night, in small spectacles, he polishes old coins
He uses spit and cloth and ashes
He makes them shine with ashes
He knows the use of ashes
He worships God with ashes

The coins are often very old by the time they reach the jeweler
With his hands and ashes he will try the best he can
He knows that he can only shine them
Cannot repair the scratches
He knows that even new coins have scars so he just smiles
He knows the use of ashes
He worships God with ashes

In the darkest of the night both his hands will blister badly
They will often open painfully and the blood flows from his hands
He works to take from black coin faces the thumbprints from so many ages
He wishes he could cure the scars
When he forgets he sometimes cries
He knows the use of ashes
He worships God with ashes[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=MaOJydUeDPw

PARALYSED
Gang of Four

[b]Blinkered, paralysed
Flat on my back

They say our world is built on endeavor
That every man is for himself
Wealth is for the one that wants it
Paradise, if you can earn it

History is the reason
I’m washed up

Blinkered, paralysed
Flat on my back

My ambitions come to nothing
What I wanted now just seems a waste of time
I can’t make out what has gone wrong
I was good at what I did

The crows come home to roost
And I’m the dupe[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=KnI6icd3zD4
youtube.com/watch?v=zFKLkng0PD8

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS
The Clash

[b]This is a public service announcement
With guitar
Know your rights all three of them

Number 1
You have the right not to be killed
Murder is a CRIME!
Unless it was done by a
Policeman or aristocrat
Know your rights

And Number 2
You have the right to food money
Providing of course you
Don’t mind a little
Investigation, humiliation
And if you cross your fingers
Rehabilitation

Know your rights
These are your rights

Number 3
You have the right to free speech
As long as you’re not
Dumb enough to actually try it.

Know your rights
These are your rights
All three of 'em
It has been suggested
In some quarters that this is not enough!
Well…[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=m6hxZ8ze-eY

DIRGE
Bob Dylan

[b]I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed
You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road
The stage was set, the lights went out all around the old hotel
I hate myself for loving you and I’m glad the curtain fell.

I hate that foolish game we played and the need that was expressed
And the mercy that you showed to me, whoever would have guessed
I went out on Lower Broadway and I felt that place within
That hollow place where martyrs weep and angels play with sin.

Heard your songs of freedom and man forever stripped
Acting out his folly while his back is being whipped
Like a slave in orbit he’s beaten 'til he’s tame
All for a moment’s glory and it’s a dirty, rotten shame.

There are those who worship loneliness, I’m not one of them
In this age of fiberglass I’m searching for a gem
The crystall ball upon the wall hasn’t shown me nothing yet
I’ve paid the price of solitude but at least I’m out of debt.

I can’t recall a useful thing you ever did for me
'Cept pat me on the back one time when I was on my knees
We stared into each other’s eyes 'till one of us would break
No use to apologize, what difference would it make ?

So sing your praise of progress and of the Doom Machine
The naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be seen
Lady Luck who shines on me, will tell you where I’m at
I hate myself for loving you but I should get over that.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=u9ke1IxlNVU

duplicate post

OUTSIDER
Chumbawamba

[b]Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider
Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider

I’m not alone, you’re not alone
I’m not alone, you’re not alone

Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider
Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me
You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me

I’m not alone, you’re not alone
I’m not alone, you’re not alone

Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider
Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me
You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me
You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me
You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=BDbZvOPuE7A

SHE’S LOST CONTROL
Joy Division

[b]Confusion in her eyes that says it all.
She’s lost control.
And she’s clinging to the nearest passer by,
She’s lost control.
And she gave away the secrets of her past,
And said I’ve lost control again,
And a voice that told her when and where to act,
She said I’ve lost control again.

And she turned around and took me by the hand and said,
I’ve lost control again.
And how I’ll never know just why or understand,
She said I’ve lost control again.
And she screamed out kicking on her side and said,
I’ve lost control again.
And seized up on the floor, I thought she’d die.
She said I’ve lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.

Well I had to 'phone her friend to state my case,
And say she’s lost control again.
And she showed up all the errors and mistakes,
And said I’ve lost control again.
But she expressed herself in many different ways,
Until she lost control again.
And walked upon the edge of no escape,
And laughed I’ve lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=IizFCNZMThA

THE BOY IN THE BUBBLE
Paul Simon

[b]It was a slow day
And the sun was beating
On the soldiers by the side of the road
There was a bright light
A shattering of shop windows
The bomb in the baby carriage
Was wired to the radio

These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry

It was a dry wind
And it swept across the desert
And it curled into the circle of birth
And the dead sand
Falling on the children
The mothers and the fathers
And the automatic earth
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry

It’s a turn-around jump shot
It’s everybody jump start
It’s every generation throws a hero up the pop charts
Medicine is magical and magical is art
The Boy in the Bubble
And the baby with the baboon heart

And I believe
These are the days of lasers in the jungle
Lasers in the jungle somewhere
Staccato signals of constant information
A loose affiliation of millionaires
And billionaires and baby
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=e26qTIydkG0

It seems to me that any song, from a Beethoven Symphony down to a commercial jingo, can have philosophical implications in that they, like any other art form, are always value statements. You simply cannot talk about appeal without talking about the underlying values. Once again, we return to my revision of Durrant’s topics of philosophy in that I group ethics and aesthetics together (or ethics/aesthetics) -that which is the last step before the political/social.

There is always a semiology, or system of signs, at work.