Category Archives: Songs

Songs

Some Songs by Steve Goodman

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Today would have been the 64th birthday of the Chicago singer and songwriter Steve Goodman. Not that we need a reason to spend some time listening to him, but any excuse is good enough to detour into the Goodman archive.

Steve Goodman was born in 1948 and only made it to age 36, but what an amazing accomplishment that was when you consider that he was diagnosed with leukemia at age 20 and fought through the illness and fatigue to make such a lasting impression. It could not have been easy to project the kind of energy and enthusiasm he did through all the pain and discomfort that comes with the disease.

He did it with his pen, writing a song that by now has been in the world longer than he ever was – “The City of New Orleans.” It will still be here after all of us are gone.

Steve Goodman also amazed with his abilities as an interpreter. This is his version of Michael Smith’s song “The Dutchman.” It’s also a treat to watch for the clearly loving and respectful interplay with the great Jethro Burns.

And Steve Goodman wowed us with his dexterity and good humor on old standards you wouldn’t expect a folk singer to attempt.

Steve Goodman was a funny, inspiring and entertaining fellow. And he still is. After they are gone, the world mourns musicians in varying degrees – mostly in proportion to their record sales. I know people who are still broken up about the loss of Elvis, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Buddy Holly – great talents all. The size of their following doesn’t matter as much as they way they connected – like all music it’s still a matter of individual taste and it becomes a rather senseless exercise to contrast and compare.

But if I could bring back one musician from among the legions who left too soon, I think I’d most enjoy hearing more from Steve Goodman.

You have the power to resurrect the singer of your choice. Who?

Songs

The Wedding Dance

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Here is a tricky social situation, just right for navigation by sensitive baboons. The note comes from Jane Beauchamp – a former Morning Show listener, sometime Trial Baboon reader and permanently proud mother who is about to have an FTD moment.

FTD in this case means “Forced To Dance.”

My son is 24 years old and marrying his high school sweetheart in an outdoor garden ceremony July 21 at a local country club to which her parents belong. He’s my oldest and the first of any of his friends to get married. I’ve not been very involved in the planning but it appears that it will be an elegant affair; a champagne reception and formal dinner follows the ceremony, after which the dance begins.

The challenge, then, is to come up with exactly the right piece of music to make the obligatory mother/son wedding dance both memorable and painless.

My son and I agree that a) neither of us are great dancers of any genre and b) we do not want anything that is very sentimental/syrupy/pop culture type of thing that would leave his mother (me) weeping in a heap on the dance floor. In fact, if we could avoid the whole dance thing that would probably be better, but I’ve been advised that isn’t part of the program for the evening, and, honestly, I would likely regret it if we didn’t do it.

What is the solution? Jane says the tune should be “something classic but/and fun; short vs. many verses is better; and beyond that we’re open.” Here’s a little more background to help guide you as you sift through your musical back stacks.

When my boys were growing up, we’d listen to The Morning Show every morning on the way to school. I like many other of your listeners told them it was my way of supporting a part of their music education. It was my only chance music-wise, as they both are very competitive athletes and that’s where their interests were. The son getting married played high school and college soccer; since finishing college, he’s been in sales for a national insurance company and loves the different type of competition he experiences there. He and his fiance have a small dog, Jolie, who they love to pieces, and when they’re not planning their wedding they like to travel (France, US, Mexico) and cook.

Stories? Suggestions? Songs?

Songs

Reef Raff

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We have already heard that microscopic organisms outnumber us in a global scale and live in and on our bodies in places so private it would make us blanch if we could see them languishing there. This sure knowledge has made it easy for me to willfully ignore every new and breathless description that urges me to marvel at how we teem with unseen life.

I simply can’t afford to comprehend it.

True awareness of exactly how many tiny monsters I harbor would trigger an “Ish Factor” reaction that would be personally catastrophic. And yet it appears we are bound to know, regardless. Researchers now say the number of hangers-on is something on the order of 100 Trillion.

The good news – it’s a functioning community. Everyone hosts a distinct “microbiome” that may help determine what diseases you get and which ones you’re able to fight off. Be kind to your friendly neighborhood bacteria – they surround you. Maybe that’s the real “cloud of witnesses” following us around in Hebrews 12:1 – not dead predecessors, but very alive hitchhikers.

But these are the lines that stood out for me inside a New York Times article:

Dr. Barnett Kramer, director of the division of cancer prevention at the National Cancer Institute, who was not involved with the research project, had another image. Humans, he said, in some sense are made mostly of microbes. From the standpoint of our microbiome, he added, “we may just serve as packaging.”

“Humans”, said Dr. David Relman, a Stanford microbiologist, are like coral, “an assemblage of life-forms living together.”

I have never thought of myself as a walking sack of microbial congregations, and certainly not as a coral reef.

I guess when Simon and Garfunkel sang “I Am A Rock”, they were right about being an island and a fortress. But they were wrong about being alone.

How do you get along with the residents of your microbiome?

Songs, Uncategorized

The Foggy Foggy Dew

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Today is the birthday of Burl Ives, the round, bearded, pipe-smoking, banjo-playing folk singer immortalized in claymation as a balladeer for the 1960’s TV special “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” He was also blacklisted in the 50’s and snubbed for a time afterwards for keeping his career going by testifying before the House Un-American Activities Committee.

My favorite thing about Burl Ives is that he was an itinerant folk singer during the Depression, and got arrested in Utah for singing the song “Foggy Foggy Dew” in public on the grounds that it was a bawdy song. This, in spite of the fact that no one could pin down exactly what the term “Foggy Foggy Dew” meant. Some suggestions – Tuberculosis, Virginity, Being Sent to a Nunnery, and of course, Bad Weather.

This is an infectious little tune and there are multiple versions. It is uncommonly friendly to finagling via the folk process. So in keeping with our Theme of the Week, I’ll adapt it to fit one of the more arduous tasks of my youth.

When I was a juvenile I lived with my folks
And a hungry St. Bernard.
And the only, only thing that I sang was this song
As I walked around the yard.
I walked there in the wintertime
And in the summer too.
And the only, only thing that I did all day long
Was to pick up all the Doggy Doggy Doo

One night the hound came too my rooms
Her whimpers left no doubt.
She’d stolen a whole box of prunes
And needed to go out.
She yipped, she skipped, she nearly flipped
So what else could I do?
I leapt out of the sack and I let her go out back
And she filled it up with Doggy Doggy Doo.

Now I’m older than I was and I live with my son
And a different St. Bernard.
And every single time that the dog is in the house
The kitchen has a cupboard guard.
We lock it up in wintertime
And in the summer too
And all the fibered food is protected by alarms
Just to cut down on that Doggy Doggy Doo

What chore do you despise most?

Songs

That’s A Ponzi!

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Just yesterday, a verdict was reached in another Ponzi Scheme case, with three Minnesota men found guilty of defrauding investors who were promised sure-fire double digit returns. What they got instead were double digit remains – most everything was lost in their six and seven digit gambles.

Bernie Madoff, Tom Petters and Trevor Cook all skipped past my door when they were out seeking investors for their fraudulent empires. I’d like to think I would have declined the opportunity because I can be as suspicious and reticent as the next guy, but I also know I’m a pushover for a good story. And you don’t get very far with a Ponzi Scheme if you’re not a compelling storyteller. Otherwise smart people fall for these things – they’re not all dopes. Aside from some kind of surgical removal of the greed gene, how can you protect yourself?

Because we’re all stuck in the musical parody mode this week, perhaps there’s a little ditty that can be fabricated to serve as a reminder when the deal seems “too good to be true.” Dean Martin provides the template:

When they say “Tsk tsk tsk,
Have no fear, there’s no risk.”
That’s a Ponzi.

When you ask for a look
But you can’t see the books
That’s a Ponzi.

Bells should ring
You’re a ding-a-ling
You’re a ding-a-ling
It will sting when they tell ya.

You are broke
What a funny joke
What a funny joke
Can’t retire, poor fella!

“The return’s guaranteed.
This plan’s all that you need.”
That’s a Ponzi.

When you ask for your dough
And they say “There’s no mo’” You are screwed.
You can’t have happy days
Unlike Richie and Pottsie and Fonzie,
That’s too bad. You’ve been had.
Money’s gone. Oh so sad. That’s a Ponzi!

How can you know if a deal is for real?

Songs

Left Slide Story

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Over the weekend, tim and Chris started putting together a political musical – a weirdly appropriate tangent since Sunday night was Tony Award night in New York.

tim suggested the idea as part of a discussion of divided loyalties. He recalled that West Side Story is based on Romeo and Juliet, and figured (correctly) that the story could be re-told in a modern political setting with “a tea party princess falling for a lift wing do gooder.”

Chris took it from there:

Well this is just too much fun. Writing parodies of well known songs is irresistible – like eating handfuls of potato chips. I feel compelled and a little sick to my stomach after an hour of doing it non-stop. It’s a guilty pleasure that many other people see as extremely unattractive. So I’m delighted when great minds like tim and Chris insist we do it anyway.

A liberal political musical may still be possible in America as long as the book and lyrics don’t have to march in lock step with positions taken by the backers. Newsies is unabashedly pro-union, though its creator, the Disney Corporation, has had some contentious relations with workers along the way. A conservative musical may not be totally out of the question. Perhaps there’s an Ayn Rand or a NASCAR musical in the works somewhere, but would anyone choose to go of their own free will? In the meantime, we’ll just have to proceed with West Slide Story.

Let your imagination run free.

There is at least one scene in every show where the main character has a moment of realization – something has changed. We need to identify that point, and I think it would be wise to match the Bernstein/Sondheim/Laurents structure and bring it in where Tony finds he has fallen in love with Maria. Except in West Slide Story, Tony realizes he and the ultra-conservative Maria have something in common, so he sings “Agree, ah” and then segues into “You’re Right”.

Agree, ah
I’ve just realized we agree, ah –
– bout something. Now I think
Your politics don’t stink
to me.
Agree, ah
That means that we eye-to-eye see, ah!
And when our thoughts align
I take it as a sign
we’re free!
Agree, ah
Say it loud – I hear donkeys braying
Say it soft – there’ll be elephants spraying
Debris, ah.
But let them protest. We agree, ah!

Maria:
You’re right, you’re right.
I realize you’re right.
You’re right and I think you always were!

Tony:
You’re right, you’re right.
In fact it’s you who’s right.
It tickles me, at last, to defer.

Both:
Give way
And dogma doesn’t dog us.
Our talking points are pointless.
We have no need to fight!
Don’t be uptight
Let’s talk it over dear, without spite
You’re right!

But this is a truce shadowed by ill omens. The Nits and the Snarks have too much invested in continuous warfare to allow romance to break out. After a lot of energetic dancing, some smooching, hand grabbing, fire-escape climbing and a bit of unfortunate gunplay, everybody winds up dead at the end.

Instant classic!

Give us a lyric, a plot point, a character or just a line to add to Left Slide Story.

Songs

Swiss Tease

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The Michele Bachmann / Switzerland citizenship brouhaha, which played out quickly over the course of a few days this week, has me thinking about Cole Porter musicals.

While we don’t know all the details of what really went on behind the scenes, I’m sure the 1930’s Broadway version would re-write the story to revolve around an unlikely relationship with international overtones.

Michele, a blushing American farm girl, meets Marcus, a dashing Swiss industrialist, when he comes to Bettendorf to demonstrate a new machine that will add Swiss chocolate to cows’ milk as it comes out of the udder.

Marcus’s attempts to woo Michele meet with some initial success, but she hesitates to commit because her one true love is the manager of the local grain elevator, an inexplicably attractive hick named Potus. But Potus has never looked at her seriously, and Michele fears he never will.

It seems that every four years, Potus becomes eligible and a frantic contest ensues to win his Pledge of Allegiance, which is highly coveted but only good for another four years. Potus has exacting requirements for those he will accept. One unshakeable condition is that each candidate must be clearly aligned and totally committed. No wishy-washiness allowed!

Each time the quadrennial courtship begins, Michele considers launching a bid of her own, but with Marcus in the picture she has something more solid to go to – the very real possibility of a tangible kind of happiness in a cozy chalet in the Alps.

But one dusty day near the truck scales, Potus casts a meaningful glance in Michele’s direction and she realizes she must chase her crazy dream of someday fairy-land happiness with Potus. She campaigns relentlessly for his attention, flying off in all directions at once and saying outlandish things to re-capture that moment of magic. Her friends shake their heads at this irrational fixation, particularly since they all think a cozy chalet and a cup of Swiss chocolate with sure-thing Marcus sounds pretty great.

Marcus waits with the carefully calibrated patience of a fine Swiss watch, marking off the days and hours until Potus breaks Michele’s heart, which, of course, Potus does, choosing to go off with a wealthy lightweight Michele considers to be a glaring fake.

In her hour of humiliation, Marcus re-offers Michele a ring, and this time she accepts.

On her wedding day, while walking down the aisle under a veil of regret, Michele is stopped mid-way to the altar by the Swiss embassy’s charge d’affairs, who informs her that when she ties the knot with Marcus she will automatically become a full citizen of his country, and will have to adopt a small herd of goats and sign the Pledge of Neutrality.

This she cannot do.

Happily calling off the wedding, Michele informs the Swiss official he can keep his wimpy, wishy-washy pledge – she’s going back to Iowa to continue hoping … and waiting.

Or something like that. Of course Cole Porter didn’t write the tangled plots of those goofball musicals – he just did the tunes and lyrics. I haven’t had time to think of what those lyrics might be, except for this verse from some early song where Michele wrestles with her choice between potential happiness in the Alps and her irrational love of Potus:

All of Switzerlands’ attractions –
Private banks. The Matterhorn.
Can’t compete for someone who was
In a place much flatter, born.

and …

If I choose to go with Marcus,
living in another place, we
won’t remember I was born
just down the road from John Wayne (Gacy)

Obviously, “Swiss Tease”, the musical, needs lots of work.

In the meantime, from what country would you accept dual citizenship?

Songs

Lunar Madness

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Here we are, gathered on this bleak Monday, a band of hardy stragglers huddled together in a sheltered corner of the internet. We are the last survivors of Earth’s weekend “Supermoon” encounter.

Saturday evening’s 14% larger-than-normal full moon came as a boon to photographers, lunatics and doomsayers. The full moon has always had some baggage and is regularly blamed for episodes of weird human behavior. The moon’s elliptical orbit brought it to its closest Earth approach at the same time fullness arrived, causing worldwide consternation even though nothing was out of the ordinary.

© Copyright Adrian S. Pye

But theater people already know what great dramatic effects can be wrought with timing and careful manipulation of the lights. And how little those effects will mean if you perform them while the curtain is drawn, as it was here in the Twin Cities on Saturday night.

Still, we live in a particular place and at a specific time when things that are bigger and brighter than normal are revered. We like the concept of “super-ness”, whether it’s applied to football games or french fries. Even a small fragment of extra power is alluring, and some wondered if a close-approach moon might trigger a rash of earthquakes and tsunamis. It didn’t, but it did shake loose an avalanche of online articles about the “Supermoon”, and how there was really nothing to fear.

In the end, paying closer attention to what goes on in the night sky can’t be bad, and I know some learning happened. For example, until I encountered and made myself pay attention to the “Supermoon”, I was unsure if the word “elliptical” had two or three “L’s”. Now I know!

Here’s a nice educational flyer from space.com with more handy information.

Learn what makes a big full moon a true 'supermoon' in this SPACE.com infographic.
Source SPACE.com: All about our solar system, outer space and exploration

All Supermoon needs now is a song.
Here’s one idea, to the familiar tune of “Moon River”.

Moon … Super! Wider than a mile.
Calamity’s your style … they say.
You seem bigger, you quake trigger.
The closer you look the more we pull away.

Space drifter, raising up our tides
Upsetting our insides, don’t scoff!
Our planet is nearing it’s end! It’s chaos you portend.
You’re a lousy friend, Moon – Super! Back off!

Are you unsettled when someone stands too close?

Songs

Happy Birthday, Jean Redpath

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Today is Scottish folk singer Jean Redpath‘s birthday. She was born in Edinburgh on April 28th in 1937. She is (has?) an M.B.E. (Member of the British Empire), which is an exalted title that carries some weight but mostly what it tells us is that everyone agrees she’s the best there is at what she does. The Edinburgh Evening News put it this way:

“To call Jean Redpath a Scottish folk singer is a bit like calling Michelangelo an Italian interior decorator.”

I would have issues with Michelangelo as my decorator, just as I’m sure he would have issues with my interior. I’m not so sure about painted ceilings, but can we talk about the color of the couch?

When Jean Redpath fills a room with a song there is a clear connection to the ancient and ongoing tradition of the Scottish people – their history and poetry come alive through her voice and she taken this all over the world in person and through the airwaves on “A Prairie Home Companion” and other broadcasts.

She has done 40 albums and has recorded at least 180 Robert Burns songs – wonderful tunes that are full of strange Scottish words that sound like throat clearing exercises but they connect to essential human experiences and emotions that cross all cultural barriers.

Perhaps she would like to sing a Lady Gaga tune every now and then, but my guess is that Jean Redpath is completely happy and engaged in the rich artistic realm she inhabits. It must be a great comfort to know so clearly what you are about and to have such success sharing it with other people.

Imagine that you have been anointed as an ambassador to the world of a great cultural tradition. Which one would suit you best?

Songs, Uncategorized

Space Mine Balladeer

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I was intrigued by the story this week that some above-average billionaires are proposing to explore space for a way to accumulate even more wealth through the burgeoning not-yet-an-industry of Space Mining. The idea is to find precious metal rich asteroids, and to plunder them with robots.

These machines will then somehow deliver the spoils to Earth where already fat portfolios will swell with an infusion of Space Cash. I suppose that’s the sort of thing you dream of when you’ve already got more money than a person can comprehend – more mind-blowing wealth. But what a sad business plan – to do all this with unfeeling robots cheats the rest of us out of all the melodramatic Space Mining Songs that would be written if humans actually left the planet to do this work.

Of course we’d have to change some of the standard references.
Here’s a Merle Travis original:

And here’s a group called Ryan’s Fancy doing their version that appears to include only Merle’s chorus. But I love it that they’re performing on what looks to be the ruins of a gantry after an especially tumultuous launch from the spaceport.

One could, if one were so inclined, imagine how this classic might be adapted by the poor unfortunates who would rush to find a living by collecting silver in space.

Come all you young fellows so young and so fine
And seek not your fortune way up in the mine
Every mineral is precious and pure – unalloyed.
But it’s hell to dig deep into an asteroid.

It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s desolate too.
Where the gravity’s weak and the comforts are few.
Where the metals are rare and the air is refined.
It’s stark and its grungy way up in the mine

They will tell you at launch that you’re gonna be rich
In a spacesuit there’s no way to scratch at that itch
It’ll claw at your heart, it’ll tickle your mind.
But there’s no satisfaction way up in the mine.

It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s desolate too.
Where the gravity’s weak and the comforts are few.
Where the metals are rare and the air is refined.
It’s stark and its grungy way up in the mine

You’ll feel weightless and nauseous and all kinds of sad.
And you’ll think of your family left back on the pad.
When you total it up and they give you your leave
You will barely earn back what they charged you to breathe.

It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s desolate too.
Where the gravity’s weak and the comforts are few.
Where the metals are rare and the air is refined.
It’s stark and its grungy way up in the mine

What was the least rewarding job you ever did?