philosophy in song

To quote Deluez from an interview:

Friendship is a matter of knowing the other’s madness. Unless you know their madness, they cannot be your friend.

I see that even in my real world friendships. This is especially clear to me from the one friend I tend to actually hang out with on a regular monthly basis. Unlike me, he’s an ex-catholic with a bachelors degree with the very temperance you would expect you’d expect from such a person. But I’ve seen his madness. Hell, I think the reason he sticks by me is that I tend to draw it out of him. And I’m quite certain he has seen mine.

I think one of the most philosophical songs lately has been Crystal Method’s “The American Way” in which they play this hard-core, primal electronica while repeating:

Is the American Way

It seems to me to represent the Neitzscheian/Shopenhauerian Will to Power that tends to dominate american culture and it’s phallic obsession with expressions of power rooted in its fixation on producer/consumer Capitalism.

There’s an irony in it in that it seems to be celebrating this tendency while holding a critical distance to it.

Fatboy Slim does something similar in “The Weekend Starts Here”.

But then this irony has been inherent to electronica from the start in that it must embrace technology and economic system that created it while being equally critical of that system.

As either Robert Plant or Bono pointed out, it is, ultimately, conflict that produces great music. Punk attempted to outrun this conflict only, in the long run, to find itself succumbing to same thing.

Rock and Roll, ultimately, is always subject to the very process of de- and re-territorialization described by Deleuz and Guattarri. Every new movement is a nomadic flight that only finds itself reterritorialized by the corporate system that allows it to become public, a territorialization that only leads to another nomadic flight that only starts the cycle over again.

Even industrial (KMFDM, My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult, Lords of Acid, and especially Ministry), which is the most recent attempt to move us to a new level of intensity, will eventually succumb to this unfortunate pattern.

But as futile as this seems, it is what pushes our common sensibility through the evolutionary process it must go through. We push through to new stimulus levels (another creative hymen) to get back to one that is more appropriate to a livable co-existence of efficiencies. The only way out is through -as I believe Joe pointed out in another string with his quote of Nietzsche.

This is a “frame of mind” best left to the poets and musicians. What really can the philosophers say?

ONLY THE BLACK ROSE
The Yardbirds

[b]Gone, gone away,
Gone away,
Almost nothing to do.
Gone away,
Now I’m far from you,
Though I’m alone now,
And there’s nobody near,
I hush my voice,
Lest they should hear;
My prayers go up to the sky,
Deep within me I die,
I’ll never cry,
No-one must see me this way.

Left, left to find,
Someone kind,
Who won’t leave me behind,
Who will guide me,
When I am blind;
Soothe my brow,
When thoughts hurt my brain;
Help me love,
When faced with pain.
I long to find someone who,
Will remind me of you,
Only the black rose knows what I will do.

Silence, silence now,
Not a sound,
Stillness everywhere now,
And the trees,
To the wind gently bow,
Only visions of the past and the gloom,
And for the moment you’re in the room,
And just as flowers bloom and die,
No-one watching to cry,
Only the black rose stands up to the sky.
Only the black rose stands up to the sky.
Only the black rose.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=tkg_iO5IYBU

A [kind of] philosophy of sex.
[warning: explicit lyrics]

WHY D’YA DO IT
Marianne Fauthful

[b]When I stole a twig from our little nest
And gave it to a bird with nothing in her beak,
I had my balls and my brains put into a vice
And twisted around for a whole fucking week.
Why’d ya do it, she said, why’d you let that trash
Get a hold of your cock, get stoned on my hash ?

Why’d ya do it she said, why’d you let her suck your cock ?
Oh, do me a favour, don’t put me in the dark.
Why’d ya do it, she said, they’re mine all your jewels,
You just tied me to the mast of the ship of fools.

Why’d ya do it, she said, when you know it makes me sore,
'Cause she had cobwebs up her fanny and I believe in giving to the poor.
Why’d ya do it, she said, why’d you spit on my snatch ?
Are we out of love now, is this just a bad patch ?

Why’d ya do it, she said, why’d you do what you did ?
You drove my ego to a really bad skid.

Why’d you do it, she said, ain’t nothing to laugh,
You just tore all our kisses right in half!

Why’d ya do it, she screamed, after all we’ve said
Every time I see your dick I see her cunt in my bed.

Why’d ya do it, she said, why’d ya do what you did,
Betray my little oyster for such a low bitch.

The whole room was swirling,
Her lips were still curling.

Why’d ya do it, she said, why’d you do what you did
Why’d ya do it, she said, why’d you do what you did
Why’d ya do it, she said, why’d ya do it, she said,
Why’d you do what you did ?

Oh, big grey mother, I love you forever
With your barbed wire pussy and your good and bad weather.
Why’d ya do it, she said, why’d you do what you did …[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=3mvAMEaWgTQ

This is a song of great social and political import:

Lord, won’t you buy me

a Mercedes Benz

My friends all have porches

I must make amens

I’M TIRED OF of walking

no help from my friends’

lord. won’t you buy me a mercedez benz.

Lord, won’t you buy me a night on the town

I’m counting on you Lord,

please don’t let me down.

Prove that you love me

and buy the next round

lord won"t you buy me a night on the town

Lord won’t you buy me a color TV.

Dialing for dollars is tryng to find me.

I wait for delivery,

each day until 3

Lord, won’t you buy me a color TV.

Everybody now:

Lord won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz,

My friends all drive porches

I must make amens

Worked hard all my lifetime

no help from my friends

So lord, won’t you buy me,

a mercedez benz.

That’s it…

Would that it could be again?

PART OF THE UNION
The Strawbs

[b]Now I’m a union man
Amazed at what I am
I say what I think, that the company stinks
Yes I’m a union man

When we meet in the local hall
I’ll be voting with them all
With a hell of a shout, it’s “Out brothers, out!”
And the rise of the factory’s fall

Oh, you don’t get me, I’m part of the union
You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
Until the day I die
Until the day I die

The union has made me wise
To the lies of the company spies
And I don’t get fooled by the factory rules
'cause I always read between the lines

And I always get my way
If I strike for higher pay
When I show my card to the Scotland Yard
And this is what I say:

Oh, oh, you don’t get me, I’m part of the union
You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
Until the day I die
Until the day I die

Before the union did appear
My life was half as clear
Now I’ve got the power to the working hour
And every other day of the year

So though I’m a working man
I can ruin the government’s plan
And though I’m not hard, the sight of my card
Makes me some kind of superman

Oh, oh, oh, you don’t get me, I’m part of the union
You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
Until the day I die
Until the day I die

You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
You don’t get me, I’m part of the union
Until the day I die
Until the day I die[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=s4FSTCfGf9o

The philosophy of “shit happens”.

WRECK OF THE EDMUND FITZGERALD
Gordon Lightfoot

[b]The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called ‘Gitche Gumee’
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy

With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty.
That big ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.

The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned

Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship’s bell rang
Could it be the north wind they’d been feelin’?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T’was the witch of November come stealin’.

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the Gales of November came slashin’.
When afternoon came it was freezin’ rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin’.
Fellas, it’s too rough to feed ya.
At Seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in, he said,
Fellas, it’s been good t’know ya

The captain wired in he had water comin’ in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay
If they’d put fifteen more miles behind her.

They might have split up or they might have capsized;
May have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man’s dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.

And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the Maritime Sailors’ Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call ‘Gitche Gumee’.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early![/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=hgI8bta-7aw

The philosophy of young love.
[for the sake argument, let’s assume she is eighteen]

INTO THE NIGHT
Benny Mardones

[b]She’s just sixteen years old
Leave her alone, they say
Separated by fools
Who don’t know what love is yet
But I want you to know

If I could fly
I’d pick you up
I’d take you into the night
And show you a love
Like you’ve never seen, ever seen

It’s like having a dream
Where nobody has a heart
It’s like having it all
And watching it fall apart
And I would wait till the end
Of time for you
And do it again, it’s true
I can’t measure my love
There’s nothing to compare it to
But I want you to know

If I could fly
I’d pick you up
I’d take you into the night
And show you a love
Oooooh, if I could fly
I’d pick you up[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=2bpOBAwrFVw

STOP! I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT ANYMORE
Melanie Safka

[b]Reason is the only way to change what we’re creating
But reason sometimes turns into another word for waiting
Oh stop, I don’t wanna hear it,
No I don’t wanna hear it anymore

You keep right on talking but I don’t wanna hear it
No, I don’t wanna hear it anymore

Now all the things that you defend are what you hide behind
Well, you sing yourself to sleep each night by saying everything takes time
Oh stop, I don’t wanna hear it,
I don’t wanna hear it anymore

You keep right on talking but I don’t wanna hear it
No, I don’t wanna hear it anymore[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=aqSqWHOtIew

~ ~
I have a mansion forget the price
Ain’t never been there they tell me it’s nice
I live in hotels tear out the walls
I have accountants pay for it all

They say I’m crazy but I have a good time
(Everybody say oh, yeah…OH,YEAH)
I’m just looking for clues at the scene of the crime
Life’s been good to me so far

My Maserati does 185
I lost my license now I don’t drive
I have a limo ride in the back
I lock the doors in case I’m attacked

I’m making records my fans they can’t wait
They write me letters tell me I’m great
So I got me an office gold records on the wall
Just leave a message maybe I’ll call

Lucky I’m sane after all I’ve been through
Everybody says I’m cool (He’s cool)
I can’t complain but sometimes I still do
Life’s been good to me so far

I go to parties sometimes until four
It’s hard to leave when you can’t find the door
It’s tough to handle this fortune and fame
Everybody’s so different I haven’t changed

They say I’m lazy but it takes all my time
Everybody says Oh yeah (Oh yeah)
I keep on going guess I’ll never know why
Life’s been good to me so far
~ ~

That last post was a joke really. The most philosophic thing about music is, in my opinion, the sounds, the melody, the rhythm, their sublime composition and the feelings they evoke. Any lyrics, insightful or not, pale in comparison to the raw power of the sound of music, the fury and poignancy of all it’s innumerable harmonies and discords. The best one can hope to achieve with lyrics is to complement the sound, and not interfere; otherwise, lyrics are really either unnecessary or detrimental. But you might wonder how the relation between music and feeling is philosophical if we exclude the textual aspect, the lyrics. To be honest, I don’t really know how music deserves to be called philosophical. Maybe it doesn’t. I suppose for me the connection between music and philosophy is that at the height of both activities is a wonderful feeling – allow me to exalt the feeling by describing it as feeling fundamentally connected to the universe – that makes me cherish being alive and the opportunity to have such a great experience.

This Emile Cioran guy…something compels me to disagree with him again and again… It seems he just likes to casually entertain any fantastic notion that crosses his mind… “if everything is a lie,” come on, where does that come from? The rest of how he described music I can relate to, but not because music, or being, is any kind of lie.

Nice.

My high school AP Lit. teacher played this in our class one day, while we all sat with our eyes closed and listened. It means a lot more to me now that I’m out of college, working a dead end job, and doing a lot of nonthinking shit while wishing I was somewhere else, doing other things. Many miles away.

~ ~
Another suburban family morning
Grandmother screaming at the wall
We have to shout above the din of our Rice Crispies
We can’t hear anything at all
Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration
But we know all her suicides are fake
Daddy only stares into the distance
There’s only so.much heartache he can take
Many miles away
Something crawls from the slime
At the bottom of a dark Scottish lake

Another industrial ugly morning
The factory belches filth into the sky
He walks unhindered through the picket lines today
He doesn’t think to wonder why
The secretaries pout and preen like
cheap tarts in a red light street
But all he ever thinks to do is watch
And every single meeting with his so-called superior
Is a humiliating kick in the crotch
Many miles away
Something crawls to the surface
Of a dark Scottish loch

Another working day has ended
Only the rush hour hell to face
Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes
Contestants in a suicidal race
Daddy grips the wheel and stares alone into the distance
He knows that something somewhere has to break
He sees the family home now looming in his headlights
The pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs ache
Many miles away
There’s a shadow on the door
Of a cottage on the shore
Of a dark Scottish lake
Many miles away, many miles away
~ ~

~ ~ Synchronicity II, The Police

I think we all struggle with this.

HOW MANY FRIENDS
The Who

[b]I’m feelin’ so good right now
There’s a handsome boy tells me how I changed his past
He buys me a brandy
Or could it be he’s really just after my ass?

He likes the clothes I wear
He says he likes a man who’s dressed in season
But no one else ever stared, he’s being so kind
What’s the reason?

How many friends have I really got?
You can count them on one hand.
How many friends have I really got?
How many friends have I really got?
That love me, that want me, that’ll take me as I am?

Suddenly it’s a silver screen
And a face so beautiful
that I have to cry out
Everybody hears me
But I look like a fool now
With a cry and I shy out
She knows all my friends
But it’s nice to find a woman who can stay home late
Now I think I’ve reached the end
I wonder in the dead of night
how do I rate?

How many friends have I really got?
How many friends have I really got?
How many friends have I really got?
That love me, that want me, that’ll take me as I am?

BRIDGE
It’s all like a dream you know
When you’re still up early in the morning
And you all sit together to watch the sun come through
But things don’t look so good
When you could use a bit of warning
Then you know that no one will ever speak the truth about you

How many friends have I really got?
How many friends have I really got?
How many friends have I really got?
That love me, that want me, that’ll take me as I am?

When I first signed a contract
It was more than a handshake then
I know it still is
But there’s a plain fact
We talk so much shit behind each other’s backs
I get the willies
People know nothing
'bout their soft own rubber soul
how come they can sum us up
Without suffering
all the hurt we’ve known
How come they bum us up

How many friends have I really got?
Well, you can count 'em on the one hand
How many friends have I really got?
How many friends have I really got?
That love me, that want me, that’ll take me as I am?[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=as5LM7kHXGE

This song truly captures that “mad max” sense of apocalypic doom

ONE OF THE LIVING
Tina Turner

[b]In the desert sun every step that you take could be the final one
In the burning heat hanging on the edge of destruction
You can’t stop the pain of your children crying out in your head
They always said that the living would envy the dead

So now you’re gonna shoot bullets of fire
Don’t wanna fight but sometimes you’ve got to
You’re some soul survivor
There’s just one thing you’ve got to know
You’ve got ten more thousand miles to go

Because you’re one of the living
And if we can’t stick together
One of the living
Who’s gonna make it tonight

Walk tall, cool, collected and savage
Walk tall, bruised, sensual, ravaged
It’s every man for himself, every woman, every child
A new breed, ferocious and wild

And all they want to do is shoot bullets of fire
They wanna fight and sometimes you’ve got to
You’re some soul survivor
There’s just one thing you’ve got to know
You’ve got ten more thousand years to go

Because you’re one of the living
And if we can’t stick together
One of the living
Who’s gonna make it tonight[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=MtKmFDrUwxc

I’ve always viewed this as one of the most intelligent [if elliptical] “protest” songs. These lines in particular

Someone stood at the window and cried one tear/
I thought that would stop the war, but someone is killing me

HOUSE AT POONEIL CORNERS
Jefferson Airplane

[b]You and me, we keep walking around and we see
All the bullshit around us.
You try and keep your mind on what’s going down,
Cant help but see the rhinoceros around us.

Then you wonder what you can be,
And you do what you can to get far and high.
And you know Im still gonna need you around.
And you know Im still gonna need you around.

You say it’s healing, but nobodys feeling it.
Somebodys dealing, somebodys stealing,
And you say you don’t see and you don’t.
You say you wont know and you wont, when it comes.
Everything someday will be gone except silence.
The earth will be quiet again.
Seas from clouds will wash off the ashes of violence
Left as the memory of men.
There will be no survivors, my friend.

Suddenly everyone will look surprised,
Stars spinning wheels in the skies,
Sun is scrambled in their eyes
And circleslike a vulture.

Someone stood at the window and cried one tear.
I thought that would stop the war, but someone is killing me.
That’s the last time I do think anymore.
Jelly and juice and bubblesbubbles on the floor.

Castles on cliffsvanished
Just like heaps ofrubbish
Seen from the stars hour upon hour
As splinters, dust, and black flowers.

From here to heaven is a scar,
Dead center, deep as death.
All the idiots have left.
The idiots have left.

Cows are almost cooing,
Turtle doves are mooing;
Which is why a Pooh is poohing
In the sun
Sun…[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=DwiQpXSbSEo

The title says it all. But the music reinforces it all the more.

BRIDGE OF SIGHS
Robin Trower

[b]The sun don’t shine
The moon don’t move the tides,
To wash me clean

Sun don’t shine
The moon don’t move the tides,
To wash me clean

Why so unforgiving and why so cold
Been a long time crossing Bridge of Sighs

Cold wind blows
The Gods look down in anger,
On this poor child

Cold wind blows
And Gods look down in anger,
On this poor child

Why so unforgiving and why so cold
Been a long time crossing Bridge of Sighs[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=4t1Ad9ZMXIk

Let’s turn everything into a rap or pop musical expression.

It is all the musical rage within the mindless idiot masses.

It is the most easiest of consuming within the idiot masses.

I want to listen to Katy Perry or GaGa make philosophy more of a consumption base for everybody.

Why has this not been tried before?