01. Bonzo Dog Band - “What Do You Do?” (Keynsham)
02. Tom Waits - “Yesterday is Here” (Franks Wild Years)
03. The Brogues - “I Ain’t No Mircale Worker” (Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965–1968, Vol. 2)
04. Tall Dwarfs - “I’ve Left Memories Behind” (Hello Cruel World)
05. Jonathan Coulton - “I Feel Fantastic” (JoCo Looks Back)
06. Ben Folds - “Fred Jones, Part 2” (Rockin’ the Suburbs)
07. Marvin the Paranoid Android - “Marvin, I Love You” (The Double ‘B’-Side)
08. Cat Stevens - “Matthew and Son” (Matthew & Son)
09. The Who - “Imagine a Man” (The Who By Numbers)
10. Nada Surf - “Stalemate” (High/Low)
11. Violent Femmes - “Used to Be” (Why Do Birds Sing?)
12. Nick Drake - “I Was Made to Love Magic” (Time of No Reply)
01. Obscura Hail - “Maple Syrup” (Boson)
02. The Morning Benders - “Why Don’t They Let Us Fall In Love? (ronettes cover)” (The Bedroom Covers)
03. Beirut - “Postcards From Italy” (The Gulag Orkestar)
04. Owen Pallett - “Fantasy (Mariah Carey cover)” (Covers/B-Sides)
05. Daniel Johnston - “True Love Will Find You In The End” (1990)
music :bizness / @tuneyards
Ali Ishfahan et George Farid ‘Arab Awakening’ // Sex Schön (tool) // Professor Genius + Dj Gilb’r + Acid Arab + Shadi Khries (unreleased) // Acid Arab ‘Sidi Gouja’ // Legowelt (unreleased) // Armando ‘5.1.5’ (Acid Arab reedit) // I:Cube ‘Le bon vieux temps’ (Acid Arab ‘Democube’ mix) // Rene Bandaly Family ‘Tanki Tanki’ (the Short mix) // Aquarian Foundation ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ // Acid Arab ‘Theme’ // D’Marc Cantu ‘Try Me’ // Renart (unreleased) // Ron Hardy ‘Sensation’ (Greg JNSX’ acidarab edit) // Kebekeleltrik ‘War dance’ (Greg Wilson edit) // Jah Wobble’s Invaders Of The Heart ‘No Change Is Sexy’ (Acid Arab reedit)
previously known as BIS Radio Show #683 (june 2013):
thanx to Tim Sweeney
"Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today?
…Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener. At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. (Pause.) I can’t go on! (Pause.) What have I said? ”
Samuel Beckett’s Waiting For Godot is by all accounts, an impenetrable work that—as the passage of time itself—carves its way into the heart of our tenuous desire for an understanding of a greater purpose in our life.
Godot is that person on the bus whom you’d wished you’d introduced yourself to, had you not been pre-occupied with Bejeweled Blitz. Or the email you’re still waiting to receive concerning that Really Important Thing that will ostensibly change your outlook on life.
Godot is 2009 Dwight Howard; you’re really sure he existed, and damn if you’re not going to spend God knows how many hours watching terrible Laker basketball for the slim hope that Godot will return—as was foretold—and everything will make sense once again.
Maybe Godot does exist. Perhaps Dwight Howard, 3x Defensive Player of the Year is alive and well on some fanciful island with 2Pac and Elvis, and they’re sitting around listening to Vince Guaraldi, laughing at MJ’s propensity for oversized cargo jeans.
Wait for someone to find you. Wait for someone or something to explain why you’re like this. Wait for strangers to give you free money to create something because you’re a Good Person, and it’s not your fault you got a Bachelor of Philosophy.
Waiting is the easy part, and really, there is nothing wrong with it. If you’re lucky, you’ll grow thicker skin. You’ll be imbued with the wondrous push/pull tension of anticipation, reminding you that you are indeed a living thing with hopes and dreams, and that waiting or no waiting, you’re going to accomplish something. Just try occupy those brief moments between the elation of meaningful contact, and the inevitable descent back into dread and uncertainty with strength and dignity. And substance, that too.
Neil Young- The Last Trip to Tulsa
Neil Young is often written off quickly as a forgettable debut of psychedelic folk-rock that did little to display the future career of the auteur which bears its name. It was critiqued for doing little to separate itself from the rest of the Californian folk scene the year between the summer of love and Woodstock, and Neil’s future greatest work would be predicated on existence in a post-Woodstock America. To this day whispers of “mulligan” hover over Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. However history shouldn’t be measuring this record in such black and white terms. For one Neil was always far grimmer than sunny sixties SoCal, you weren’t going to hear the Byrds or Mamas & the Papas singing “The Loner” or breathing out anything as frightened and suspicious as “Here We Are In The Years”, and Neil Young still displays a maturation in songwriting from his Buffalo Springfield work in further detailed lyricism and more evocative melodic turns.
The album’s crowning point comes on its closing track, “The Last Trip to Tulsa” where Neil paints a surrealist narrative complete with Native Americans, men eating pennies, and green gasoline. There are a lot of different things I love about this song like the supremely hilarious irony of a feminist pilot who lets a man fly her plane because, “it looked good for his pride,” closing sardonically, “I wonder what it’s like to be so far over my head” to the juxtaposition of regionalist and surrealist imagery as a reflection of hippie America. Unaccompanied acoustic songs traditionally function on melody and direct emotional exchange but “The Last Trip to Tulsa” unorthodoxly succeeds on mood centered instrumental vamping and lyrical abstraction, two traits that would come to define some of the best work he made in his career.
Neil’s peculiar and cryptic use of lyrical abstraction has always been one of the primary traits of his songwriting, using metaphor or allegory to comment on personal and social subjects. “The Last Trip to Tulsa” ends with an anecdote that seems to comment on Neil’s stubborn and often unmerciful dedication to following his artistic path despite what consequences it may place on his friends’ or his own career trajectory:
I was chopping down a palm tree when a friend dropped by to ask, if I would feel less lonely if he helped me swing the axe. I said, “no it’s not a case of being lonely we have here, I’ve been working on this palm tree for eighty-seven years.” He said, “go get lost!” and walked towards his Cadillac. I chopped down the palm tree and it landed on his back.
And in this way Neil is both paradoxically extremely self aware and also simultaneously distant and removed, avoiding all the usual cliche pitfalls of singer-songwriter music. For the rest of his career he would continue in this idiosyncratic struggle to chop down the palm tree, taking artistic risks and suffering both commercial and critical backlash. Neil Young is the Platonic ideal of the artist as an unaffected entity self driven by a primordial need within to create, comment, reflect, and express.
I’d like to thank Hendrik for having me on the blog this week and I’d also like to thank all of you who followed along with all my ramblings. In the future be sure to remember what we’ve learned, “only love can break your heart,” and “it’s better to burn out than to fade away.” But above all remember to keep on rocking in the free world. Goodbye Waterface.
Bodhi - Don’t You Know