Who Will Save Your Soul?

Listen while you read:  Jewel

People living their lives for you on TV
They say they're better than you and you agree
Another burger, another hot dog, some fries
A wish in the well, hope your health don't go to hell, well
Another doctor's bill, another lawyer's bill
Another cute cheap thrill
You know you love him if you put him in your will

Who will save your soul when it comes to the flower
Who will save your soul after the lies you told, boy
Who will save your soul if you won't save your own

We try to hustle them, try to bustle them, try to cuss them
The cops want someone to bust down on Orleans Avenue
Another day, another dollar, another war, another tower
Went up to where the homeless had their homes
So we pray to as many gods as there are flowers
But we call religion our friend
We're so worried about saving our souls
Afraid that God will take His toll
That we forget to begin

Some are walking, some are talking, some are stalking their kill
Aunt Cale gets Social Security, but it doesn't pay her bills
There are addictions to feed and there are mouths to pay
So you bargain with the Devil, say you're okay for today
You say that you love them, take their money and run
Say, it's been swell, sweetheart, but it was just one of those things
Those flings, those strings, you've got to cut
So get out on the streets, girls, and bust your butts

~  Jewel

So Jewel was sixteen years old when she wrote this song. She'd been hitch-hiking in Mexico at the time. It appears on 1994's Pieces of You, her first album. Wow, it was that long ago?

I liked Jewel. I thought she had musical talent, a great voice, and the potential for really meaningful lyrics. Maybe she refused to play the game, but she never ascended to the fame that her talents should have brought. Last I recall, she'd hooked up with a cowboy and was living on a ranch in Texas. I don't know if she is still making music.

There seems to always be a story as to how I choose a song for this blog. Some of those stories are good. Some of them? Not so much. This is one of those "not so much" ones. I spent most of yesterday weeding, raking, rebuilding a wall, and doing whatever else I could manage on my own to spruce up the entrance to my home. (I have a very long driveway.) Having been remiss in keeping up with the landscaping around here, there were some giant, I mean GIANT, weeds taking over a piece of my little acre of land. So I began pulling. And there it was . . . the poison ivy. I clipped it with my Fiskars, and without touching it, set it aside to die a peaceful death. And then I kept pulling these weed-trees, dark green leaves with tiny orange flowers. Dozens of them.

And then I thought, "Damn! What are they? Maybe they're also some kind of poison?" Well, too late now. But I googled images for "tiny orange flowers" and there was the exact plant I'd been pulling. Oh, no, what is it?

Well, turns out it's JEWELWEED, which is a treatment for poison ivy! So, yeah, "Jewel." There ya go. Who will save your soul when it comes to the flower?

This life is full of poisons. It's also full of treatments. Nature's funny that way. And so is human nature.

End of the Line

Listen while you read:  Traveling Wilburys!

Well, it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well, it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well, it's all right, doing the best you can
Well, it's all right, as long as you lend a hand

You can sit around and wait for the phone to ring
Waiting for someone to tell you everything
Sit around and wonder what tomorrow will bring
Maybe a diamond ring

Well, it's all right, even if they say you're wrong
Well, it's all right, sometimes you gotta be strong
Well, it's all right, as long as you got somewhere to lay
Well, it's all right, everyday is judgment day

Maybe somewhere down the road a ways
You'll think of me, wonder where I am these days
Maybe somewhere down the road when somebody plays
Purple Haze

Well, it's all right, even when push comes to shove
Well, it's all right, if you got someone to love
Well, it's all right, everything'll work out fine
Well, it's all right, we're going to the end of the line

Don't have to be ashamed of the car I drive
I'm just glad to be here, happy to be alive
It don't matter; if you're by my side
I'm satisfied

Well, it's all right, even if you're old and grey
Well, it's all right, you still got something to say
Well, it's all right, remember to live and let live
Well, it's all right, the best you can do is forgive

Well, it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well, it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well, it's all right, even if the sun don't shine
Well, it's all right, we're going to the end of the line

~ Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty, George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Bob Dylan

Wow, this is just the song I needed! It came up on my shuffle this morning, and I thought, "Nailed it!" No, there's nothing wrong in my life. I was just letting myself get bogged down in politics, home maintenance, responsibilities, errands, to-do lists, self-flagellation . . . you know, life. And the Traveling Wilburys said to me, Well, it's all right. Twenty times they said it. It's just what I needed to hear. How about you? (You're welcome.)

So "End of the Line" appears on Traveling Wilburys, Volume One, released in 1988. I hope you watched the video. If you did, you may have noticed that one of the Wilburys was missing. Roy Orbison died a couple of months after the song was recorded but before the video was produced. During his verses, the camera focuses on a rocking chair with Orbison's guitar sitting on it.

When George Harrison got his mates together to form this group, there were occasionally some recording errors due to faulty equipment. Harrison would say, "We'll bury 'em in the mix." The term was then used to label any small error in performance. Consequently, The Traveling Wilburys got a name. Not only that, they created a Wilbury family, consisting of Otis (Lynne), Charlie T. (Petty), Nelson (Harrison), Lefty (Orbison), and Lucky (Dylan). Sounds like a family to me.

Philosophy doesn't have to be complicated. "End of the Line" offers a few simple little nuggets which, if you keep them in mind, can lighten your load. Live and let live. Do the best you can. Lend a hand. Be strong. Forgive. I may be old and grey, but I still have something to say. And I say listen to music. And live the life you please.

Because sooner or later, we're all going to the end of the line.

My Only True Friend

Listen while you read:  (No video yet)

You and I both know this river will surely flow to an end
Keep me in your heart, keep your soul on the mend
I hope you're haunted by the music of my soul when I'm gone
Please don't fly away and find you a new love
I just can't face living this life alone
I can't bear to think this might be the end
But you and I both know the road is my only true friend

Another night alone but I see you in my dreams sometimes
No matter where I go, Lord knows, you were always on my mind
I hope you're haunted by the music of my soul when I'm gone
. . . 

Still on and on I roam
It feels like home just around the bend
I've got so much left to give
But I'm running out of time, my friend
I hope you're haunted by the music of my soul when I'm gone
. . . 

~  Gregg Allman & Scott Sharrad

So maybe you're crying? As was true with Warren Zevon's The Wind (2003) or David Bowie's Blackstar (2016), Gregg Allman's posthumous last album, Southern Blood, is guaranteed to reach deep into your soul and drag you through an unexpected catharsis. Based on "My Only True Friend," the only song released so far, get ready to turn on the waterworks. Southern Blood will be released on September 8, so you have a month to get ready for it. Meanwhile, give this one a listen.

As I'm sure you know, Gregg Allman died of cancer in May. Prior to his death, he was working on this final album. "My Only True Friend" was co-written with Allman's long-time manager, Scott Sharrad. Sharrad says that he began writing the song in Duane Allman's voice, but didn't reveal that to Gregg. However, Gregg responded with another verse that seemed to imply that he understood. So think of the song as a conversation between the brothers. If you want to increase the tear production, that is. But considering that Duane died 46 years ago, a brotherly reunion is a cause for celebration, yes?

The original intention of the album was to have all new songs, but time was running out. So the collection includes a few covers. Just to prepare you for the emotional storm that will strike on September 8, consider the following songs:

Bob Dylan's "Going Going Gone"
Grateful Dead's "Black Muddy River"
Lowell George's "Willin'"
Tim Buckley's "Once I Was"
Jackson Browne's "Song for Adam"

Do you see a theme here? Buckley's "Once I Was" has long had the power to reduce me to a puddle. And the haunting line in Browne's "Song for Adam," Still it seems he stopped his singing in the middle of his song, takes on a new sadness.

So why is it that these songs, performed by those whose deaths are imminent, reduce us to such grieving? It's not like we know these people personally. Perhaps it's simply that a mirror has been placed in front of us, allowing us to stare into the face of death? Maybe it's just a reminder: we're all gonna die. Some of us just get to know when.

As for the rest of us, we should sing all our songs as if they were our last.

Marigolden

Listen while you read:  Field Report

I left Nebraska in my summer dress
Left him behind there to straighten out his head
Jane was working for the airline, and she bumped me up to business
She feels the thrill of every liftoff in her heart and chest
She smelled like saffron and glowed gold and rust
Years ago, I loved Jane Harmony once
But the fall fell from August and the petals all dropped off
We're always finding old lives to run away from

And I started to believe it

Thirty thousand feet: I am seated by a surgeon
Said he fixed the dicks of Shahs' sons who wanted to be Western
Jane caught me roll my eyes, and we made up constellations
Of unicorns with Roman candle horn approximations

And I started to believe it

The voice of God came on, cautioning the wind
Jane strapped in and looked into my eyes
I watched us fall breathless
Cascading over nothing
I was feeling marigolden
Gliding to the ground

And I started to believe it

~  Chris Porterfield (Field Report)

On my list of things to do today: drive Jenna to the airport (again) and buy a couple of flats of marigolds. So there you go. Song selected. "Marigolden" is Track #7 on the album of the same name, released in the fall of 2014 by Field Report. Perhaps you noticed that "Field Report" is an anagram of "Porterfield." And Chris Porterfield is basically Field Report. "For me, songwriting all starts with the words. I'm very lyrically driven." No wonder I like his work.

My first reaction to the story being told here, at 30,000 feet no less, is one of the absurdity of life. Look no further than the line of the Shahs' sons' dicks (say that three times fast) to see what I mean. But hidden within the seemingly meaningless lines are some gems. We're always finding old lives to run away from. It's true, right? The voice of God came on. Doesn't it seem that the pilots are gods when our lives are in their hands? I watched us fall breathless, cascading into nothing. A plane's descent? Or death?

Porterfield's lyrics encourage you to think deeply as you try to extract some meaning from his meanderings. But be careful. You might start to believe it.

The word "marigolden" is made up. Perhaps Porterfield was simply referring to how all the petals dropped off as we glide to the ground in a natural state of aging and decline. Consider it a golden age, and it's less disturbing. According to the Victorian penchant for assigning meaning to various flowers, marigolds have historically represented grief, cruelty, and jealousy. The Mexican celebration of Day of the Dead, held in late October, uses marigolds as part of the creation of altars to remember the dead. I find it interesting that a more modern assessment of a marigold's "meaning" assigns optimism and success to the flower. However you interpret it, it's a cool word.

And a cool and august flower, too.

Karma Chameleon

Listen while you read:  We could use a little culture!

Desert loving in your eyes all the way
If I listened to your lies, would you say
I'm a man without conviction
I'm a man who doesn't know
How to sell a contradiction
You come and go, you come and go

Karma karma karma karma karma chameleon
You come and go, you come and go
Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dreams
Red, gold, and green, red, gold, and green

Didn't hear your wicked words every day
And you used to be so sweet, I heard you say
That my love was an addiction
When we cling, our love is strong
When you go, you're gone forever
You string along, you string along

Every day is like survival
You're my lover, not my rival
Every day is like survival
You're my lover, not my rival

I'm a man without conviction
I'm a man who doesn't know
How to sell a contradiction
You come and go, you come and go

~  George O'Dowd et al (for Culture Club)

When was this last time you heard this one? Makes you want to dance, doesn't it? That's the charmingly flamboyant Boy George singing with Culture Club in this catchy tune from 1983's Colour by Numbers. Quite a colorful video, too.

I woke up this morning with the remnants of a dream that seemed to last all night long. I'll spare you most of the details, but it involved a music festival called "Bloodline," a man with four pearl earrings,  some ugly dogs and cute puppies, a bicycle with deadly sharp studded tires, and lots of friendly people on barstools. Oh, and a body of water. (No, the dream was not provoked by any ingestion of mind-altering substances.)

The main character (aside from me) was a man with a shirt and cowboy hat that changed colors, from a silvery grey to a dark brown. It was this anomaly that led to a case of mistaken identity, leaving me lost and confused, wandering through the dream and searching for reassurance. In describing the dream to that real man this morning, "Karma Chameleon" came into my head. And that's why you're listening to it now.

In light of the emotions created by the dream, I find Boy George's explanation of the song to be compelling: "The song is about the terrible fear of alienation that people have, the fear of standing up for one thing. It's about trying to suck up to everybody. Basically, if you aren't true, if you don't act like you feel, then you get Karma-justice; that's nature's way of paying you back."

But beyond my dream and its responsibility for the song's arrival in my waking life, I can't help but think of the Karma-justice I hope comes soon. By now, I suspect you know what I'm talking about. Every day is like survival.

To Lay Me Down

Listen while you read:  Cover: Perfume Genius, Sharon Von Etten & Friends

To lay me down once more
To lay me down with my head in sparkling clover
Let the world go by, all lost in dreaming
To lay me down one last time
To lay me down

To be with you once more
To be with you with our bodies close together
Let the world go by like clouds a-streaming
To lay me down one last time
To lay me down

To lie with you once more
To lie with you with our dreams entwined together
To lie beside you, my love still sleeping
To tell sweet lies one last time
And say good night

To lay me down . . . 

~  Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia

I try to write these posts the day before they are posted, so I am writing this one on August 1, even though you may be reading it on August 2. That's important only because today (August 1) would have been Jerry Garcia's 75th birthday. In honor of Jerry, I put the five CDs of Day of the Dead (2016) on my stereo and turned up the outside speakers. The covers of The Grateful Dead accompanied me through four hours of heavy-duty gardening, cleaning  up a perennial bed that I've neglected for two years. And then the heat and the bugs drove me inside. But this song stayed with me.

Robert Hunter wrote the lyrics to this one in London in 1970 "over a half-bottle of retsina." Written in the same session were "Ripple" and "Brokedown Palace." Quite a productive afternoon, I'd say. "To Lay Me Down" appears on Garcia (1972) and Reckoning (1981), but I chose this cover because it moved me. Considering that I don't even know who Perfume Genius is, and I don't really like Sharon Von Etten, that's saying something.

So that's it. I just wanted to honor Jerry. And tell someone I'm missing him. And if you read that as a double entendre, A+ to you.

First Day in August

Listen while you read:  Carole King

On the first day in August
I want to wake up by your side
After sleeping with you on the last night in July
In the morning, we'll catch the sun rising
And we'll chase it from the mountains
To the bottom of the sea

When the day is over
And the night air comes to chill us
You'll build a fire
And we'll watch the flames dancing

You'll fall asleep with your arm around my shoulder
And nothing will come between us
On the first night in August

The first day in August

~  Carole King and Charles Larkey

So, no need to guess why I chose this song for today. I trot it out once a year for obvious reasons. It appears on 1972's Rhymes and Reasons, the follow-up album to Tapestry.

Not to take anything away from Tapestry, but Rhymes and Reasons is the more pivotal Carole King record for me. In the fall of 1972, I was teaching 7th grade English in Bumblefuck, Pennsylvania. It was not my desired position or location, but there was an overabundance of teachers and not enough job openings that year, and I needed to jumpstart my career. I lasted there one year. But it was a memorable year. At the end of that November, a few days after purchasing my first new car (a red 1973 Ford Mustang with white interior), my father died of a heart attack at the age of 51. I'd just been home for Thanksgiving, when he helped me pick out the car, and all seemed fine. The early morning phone call on November 29 is not something I will ever forget.

Rhymes and Reasons had been released one month earlier, and I'd purchased the vinyl. It was on constant play on my post-college stereo. While I tried to get my emotions in order before driving back to New Jersey that day, I listened to it over and over again, alternately crying and pulling myself together. I remember the drive home as if it were yesterday. It snowed while driving over the higher elevations of Honesdale and Hawley on Route 6 in my new red car. And how could I ever forget my mother's eyes when she opened the front door for me. They were red, like my car. It was obvious that she'd been crying all night. I think I might have seen her cry once more after that, on Christmas.

So do you think I can listen to this song without conjuring up that sad memory? But don't feel bad about it. It's a cleansing sadness, a memory of the first time that the Universe informed me that life was not fair. And it was not the worst time.

I do wish I was waking up with a certain someone on the first day in August, but that will not happen until a couple of weeks from now. But despite all of that, "First Day in August" is a pretty song. I hope it added to your day in a good way.