TOP MUSICAL HIT: 14TH BIRTHDAY?

I've read somewhere--some meme, some random posting--that the top musical hit on your 14th birthday has a mystical, even fatal effect on the arc and outcome of your life.  My 14th birthday on June 19th, 1975, seems to have seen this arc of hits:


June 7 "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" John Denver
June 14 "Sister Golden Hair" America
June 21 "Love Will Keep Us Together" Captain & Tennille

I can check further, but I think America's hit was the one that matters.

I'm not sure how I think and feel about all this, but I do recall being both puzzled and drawn in by the lyrics and their delivery in that song so many years ago.



SISTER GOLDEN HAIR---------by the band AMERICA

Well I tried to make it sunday, but I got so damn depressed
That I set my sights on monday and I got myself undressed
I ain't ready for the altar but I do agree there's times
When a woman sure can be a friend of mine

Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, sister golden hair surprise
And I just can't live without you, can't you see it in my eyes?
I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find
But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind

Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?
Well I tried to fake it, I don't mind sayin', I just can't make it

Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, sister golden hair surprise
And I just can't live without you, can't you see it in my eyes?
Now I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find
But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind

Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?
Well I tried to fake it, I don't mind sayin', I just can't make it

Doo wop doo wop

Written by Gerry Beckley • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

TBT: "The Sea-God Sailing"

Throwback Thursday?  Here's a poem of mine from high school that I recently (re)discovered:

THE SEA-GOD SAILING

When the wind's a howling, red-eyed scourge--
The surf beats out a dismal dirge
     And the rigging hums with a dire tune--
     There comes a-racing through mist and gloom
The lord of sea and surge.

The winter sky is fraught with grey,
In frozen heaps the storm clouds lay.
     So fill with ale your carven mug,
     In hearty gulps drink down that slug,
As he glides into the bay.

Aye, drain that mug to the king of the sea,
Before whose prow the troubled waters flee.
     To Manannan, the Celtic one,
     Besides whose ship the dolphins run,
For the sea's true son is he.

And like the wilful, wind-swept waters wide,
Indomitable as the turning tide,
     Wild and daring as the untamed surge--
     Until the oceans very verge
His sturdy sloop doth ride.

While Neptune and his kin doth sleep--
Sung in their castles buried deep,
     Indolent in the languid seas,
     Lolling in the warm, southern breeze--
Manannan storms the ocean's briny keep.

For Manannan Mac Lir is he,
The warrior of the northern sea.
     With flaxen sail and ashen spar,
     The Celtic god doth make his war
With the legions of the sea.

In anger, the wayward sea attacks,
With swell and squall and ice that tracks.
     Yet closer to the wind he leads
     And braces the ocean's white-maned steeds,
And slides across their lathered backs.

Though the spray to ice in air doth turn,
And iron and flesh together coldly burn,
     He grips the tiller like a hearth,
     Through his frozen beard shines his mirth,
And strains at stem and stern.

Through the heart of a raging northern gale,
Pelted by the sling-stones of frosty hail,
     As to futile wrath turns the sea,
     Manannan, making his way with glee,
Tightens his grip and trims his sail.

In a stinging salt-spray haze he's whirled,
At him the wrath of waves is hurled--
     Over him they break, like soldiers on a wall,
     Above him the gulls, in brazen voices call--
And with a flag, his sail unfurled, he skims across the frozen world.

He turns his prow to the midnight land of sun and sea and sky,
And sails in the gleaming snow of the ice that will not die--
     Across the world's ridge, he slowly spreads his sails,
     And beaches his boat on the barren backs of whales,
And gulls about him fly.

As the wind, Manannan is free.
He sails across the sullen sea,
     And though the proud waters permit no track,
     Mac Lir, with a cloak from a leathern sack,
Is master there, aye master, for all eternity.

--Matthew Duckworth
from Unrecognized Poems of Literary Merit
by Mrs. Covell's A-P English Class
1978-1979.

--I just found this old volume in a box in my study, recently pulled out of the garage.
Juvenilia, by any other name . . . .

Pirate Xmas: A Song

Here’s a bit of doggeral for singing:
"Pirate Xmas" --  

Ran out of Irish --
Drinking rum --
Pirate Xmas

Futility feeds into despair
Lack of hope fills that empty chair
Friends and family in disarray
Dead, distant,
Dreadfully dismayed
Under sentence
Ducking attack
Don’t count the blessings that we lack
Don’t count the blessings in arrears
Just bless, just bless
Find the needy and just bless
Pirate Xmas

Look beyond
Look beyond
Feed whom you can
Toast the rest
Pirate Xmas

Ran out of Irish –
Drinking rum –
Pirate Xmas

X marks the spot . . . .

--MD

I expect to revise this one, but the tune's in my head.
Feel free to sing as you wish.

Sing A Blue Song

Blue Coyotes, Singing:
soldate clay;
abalone glazing.

Puck or Joy?

Two hummers are nesting in the hedge by the garage and frequently hang out in the orange tree by the holly and sing.  These shots are of one of the hummingbirds, for the other one wouldn't stick around for a profile pic.

Puck and Joy -- not twins I realize, but mates.

With Luck, Puck

Always a welcome sight.

Two More From Brendan Kennelly

UNION

When salmon swarmed in the brown tides
And cocks raised their lusty din
And her heart beat like a wild bird's heart,
She left her kin.

A black ass brayed in the village,
Men ploughed and mowed,
There was talk of rising water
When he struck the road.

Words stranger than were scattered
Over the shuttered dead
Were faint as child-songs in their ears
When they stretched in bed.


THE SINGING GIRL IS EASY IN HER SKILL

The singing girl is easy in her skill.
We are more human than we were before.
We cannot see just now why men should kill

Although it seems we are condemned to spill
The blood responding to the ocean's roar.
The singing girl is easy in her skill.

That light transfiguring the window-sill
Is peace that shyly knocks on every door.
We cannot see just now why men should kill.

This room, this house, this world all seem to fill
With faith in which no human heart is poor.
The singing girl is easy in her skill.

Though days are maimed by many a murderous will
And lovers shudder at what lies in store
We cannot see just now why men should kill.

It's possible we may be happy still,
No living heart can ever ask for more.
We cannot see just now why men should kill.
The singing girl is easy in her skill.

--BRENDAN KENNELLY


P.S.  I feel I am going to, in Wordsworth's words and Heaney's echo, "singing school" with Kennelly.  And glad I am, indeed.

Kennelly: "A Singing Wound"

WHAT?

'What is my body?' I asked the man made of rain.
'A temple,' he said, 'and the shadow thrown
by the temple, dreamfield, painbag, lovescene,
hatestage, miracle jungle under the skin.

Cut it open.  Pardon the apparition.'

'What is my blood?' I dared then.
'Her pain birthing you and me,
the slow transfiguration of pain
into knowing what it means to be

climbing the hill of blood, trawling the poisoned sea.'

'Where have I been when they say I have returned?'
'Where beginning and end
combine to make a picture, compose a sound
reminding you that love is a singing wound

and I could be your friend.'

--BRENDAN KENNELLY,

from "The Man Made of Rain"

Collected in
Familiar Strangers: New & Selected Poems, 1960 - 2004
Bloodaxe Books Ltd.

Joy, Puck's Twin

Neil Young: "When I Write A Song"

"When I write a song, it starts with a feeling.  I can hear something in my head or feel it in my heart.  It may be that I just picked up the guitar and mindlessly started playing.  That's the way a lot of songs begin.  When you do that, you are not thinking.  Thinking is the worst thing for writing a song.  So you just start playing and something new comes out.  Where does it come from?  Who cares?  Just keep it and go with it.  That's what I do.  I never judge it.  I believe it.  It came as a gift when I picked up my musical instrument and it came through me playing with the instrument.  The chords and melody just appeared.  Now is not the time for interrogation or analysis.  Now is the time to get to know the song, not change it before you even know it.  It is like a wild animal, a living thing.  Be careful not to scare it away.  That's my method, or one of my methods, at least."

--Neil Young,

from page 158 of Waging Heavy Peace: A Hippie Dream,
A Plume Book, New York: 2012.

Dougie MacLean: "Ready For The Storm"

READY FOR THE STORM

The waves crash in and the tide pulls out

It's an angry sea but there is no doubt 

That the lighthouse will keep shining out to warn the lonely sailor

And the lightning strikes and the wind cuts cold through the sailor's bones, to the sailor's soul

Till there's nothing left that he can hold except the rolling ocean

CHORUS

But I am ready for the storm, yes sir, ready

I am ready for the storm, I'm ready for the storm

Oh give me mercy for my dreams

Cause every confrontation seems

To tell me what it really means to be this lonely sailor

But when the sky begins to clear and the sun it melts away my fear

I'll cry a silent weary tear for those that need to love me

CHORUS

The distance it is no real friend

And time will take its time

And you will find that in the end it brings you me, the lonely sailor

And when you take me by your side you love me warm, you love me and

I should have realized I had no reason to be frightened

CHORUS

--Dougie Maclean

A favorite song, like so many of the great Scotsman's creations.

Four Anchors: sculpture mix; jade glazing.

Lightning Strike: Bob Mould's "Stupid Now"

STUPID NOW

Please listen to me 
And don't disagree
Even as we fight 
It doesn't matter to me
(3x)

Here alone in this place
Here alone in my bed
I feel your warmth on my face
And these thoughts in my head

Everything I say to you feels stupid now
Feelings that I shared with you are over now
Haven't I been enough of a fool for you?
Everything I say to you feels stupid now

(Please listen to me 

And don't disagree

Even as we fight 

It doesn't matter to me)

Everything I say to you feels stupid now

Feelings that I shared with you are over now

Haven't I been enough of a fool for you?

Everything I say to you feels stupid now
(2x)

Let me out let me out let me out

Let me out let me out let me out
Let me out let me out let me out
Let me out let me out let me out

(Everything I say to you feels stupid now)

--Bob Mould, 

the opening song to District Line -----
The words alone, I like, but the music, the music, will take you higher.

As Archilochos said, "The truth is born as lightning strikes."
(Guy Davenport's translation in his excellent 7 Greeks.)

Bob Mould: "Walls In Time"

Here is another set of lyrics from Bob Mould's oh so excellent District Line, though you should really listen to the song . . . .

WALLS IN TIME

Is it a crime to want to show your soul?

Waste enough time, another black hole

Misguided, not even lost, not even sure

Now find the disease or the cure

Has life lost all its glory and wonder

Sad tales are told again and again

Sleep, toss and turn, my old bed

What a tale, again and again

Now all the stories of the world could fit in a building

In a building high and wide

Filed under headings that no one's quite sure of

Lord knows that everyone tried

When the pen meets the paper

When the mind, it begins to stray

How a soul could lose its will to explain

Oh, explain again and again

Day after day, day after day, day after day

Flowers losing life when picked from the ground

A nice arrangement for the occasion

But flowers, when moved from place to place

Lose all meaning, dislocation, dislocation

In a fit of fitless night, a flame attempts to spark a soul

Ignite, burn, candle light, a waste of time, another dead soul

If these walls around my soul could talk

The words would lose importance

Within these walls I hold so dear these words

We all want to leave a mark somewhere

For those of us who feign to care

In all unfortunate times we find a way

To build up these walls in time

To build up these walls in time

Is it a crime?

--Bob Mould

Bob Mould's "Very Temporary": Very Intense

VERY TEMPORARY

If you want it to be, you've got to stand here by me
But if you wanted to leave, go on and make yourself free
If you want me to plead, you see me down on my knees
You can do as you like, but do you know where it leads?

When I wake from my sleep, outside my window I see
A little robin that sings a little sonnet for me
And every morning, I feel just like that bird in that tree
I'd build a nest out of weeds, but would you share it with me?

This is very temporary, but I can't do without having you around
If it's very temporary, tell me now
Just to please you, I'd blow my brains out, this is it
Cut my heart out with a razor now

You're the one in my dreams, how can I make you believe
It's all that I want, it's all that I want

Now I'm lonely, it's the yearning
You infiltrate my thoughts and places in my home
This is very temporary, I know that's all you want, I know, I know
You're the reason I keep breathing, and I'll give up the fight if you go
Cut my heart out with a razor now

--Bob Mould, lyrics from District Line (2008).

You really should hear the song, but I also like focusing on the words, as I do here.

"Stupid Now," "Again and Again," and "Old Highs, New Lows" are three other songs from this CD well worth digging into.

Poetry in Motion: McKay, Teasdale, and Wroth

THE TROPICS IN NEW YORK

 Bananas ripe and green, and ginger root
     Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,
And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit,
     Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs,

Sat in the window, bringing memories
     of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills,
And dewy dawns, and mystical skies
     In benediction over nun-like hills.

My eyes grow dim, and I could no more gaze;
     A wave of longing through my body swept,
And, hungry for the old, familiar ways
     I turned aside and bowed my head and wept.

--Claude McKay



NIGHT SONG AT AMALFI

I asked the heaven of stars
     What I should give my love --
It answered me with silence,
     Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
     Down where the fishers go --
It answered me with silence,
     Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
     Or I could give him song --
But how can I give silence,
     My whole life long? 

--Sara Teasdale



From PAMPHILIA TO AMPHILANTHUS


When night's black mantle could most darkness prove, 
     And sleep, death's image, did my senses hire 
     From knowledge of myself, then thoughts did move 
     Swifter than those most swiftness need require.
In sleep, a chariot drawn by wing'd desire, 
     I saw, where sate bright Venus, Queen of love, 
     And at her feet her son, still adding fire 
     To burning hearts, which she did hold above.
But one heart flaming more than all the rest, 
     The goddess held, and put it to my breast. 
     "Dear Son, now shoot," she said, "thus must we win."
He her obeyed, and martyr'd my poor heart. 
     I, waking, hoped as dreams it would depart; 
     Yet since, O me, a lover have I been.


--Mary Wroth

Zevon: "All The Salty Margaritas In Los Angeles"

DESPERADOES UNDER THE EAVES

I was sitting in the Hollywood Hawaiian Hotel
I was staring in my empty coffee cup
I was thinking that the gypsy wasn't lyin'
All the salty margaritas in Los Angeles
I'm gonna drink 'em up

And if California slides into the ocean
Like the mystics and statistics say it will
I predict this motel will be standing until I pay my bill

Don't the sun look angry through the trees
Don't the trees look like crucified thieves
Don't you feel like desperadoes under the eaves
Heaven help the one who leaves

Still waking up in the mornings with shaking hands
And I'm trying to find a girl who understands me
But except in dreams you're never really free
Don't the sun look angry at me

I was sitting in the Hollywood Hawaiian Hotel
I was listening to the air conditioner hum
It went mmm... mmm...mmmm...mmmm
Look away
(Look away down Gower Avenue, look away)

--Warren Zevon

The lyrics to that favorite song from that early album.

Surrey's "Green Waves"

COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HER LOVER BEING UPON THE SEA

O happy dames! that may embrace
The fruit of your delight,
Help to bewail the woful case
And eke the heavy plight
Of me, that wonted to rejoice
The fortune of my pleasant choice:
Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.

In ship, freight with rememberance
Of thoughts and pleasures past,
He sails that hath in governance
My life while it will last:
With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,
Furthering his hope, that is his sail,
Toward me, the sweet port of his avail.

Alas! how oft in dreams I see
Those eyes that were my food;
Which sometime so delighted me,
That yet they do me good:
Wherewith I wake with his return
Whose absent flame did make me burn:
But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn!

When other lovers in arms across
Rejoice their chief delight,
Drowned in tears, to mourn my loss
I stand the bitter night
In my window where I may see
Before the winds how the clouds flee:
Lo! what a mariner love hath made me!

And in green waves when the salt flood
Doth rise by rage of wind,
A thousand fancies in that mood
Assail my restless mind.
Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe,
That with the spoil of my heart did go,
And left me; but alas! why did he so?

And when the seas wax calm again
To chase fro me annoy,
My doubtful hope doth cause me plain;
So dread cuts off my joy.
Thus is my wealth mingled with woe
And of each thought a doubt doth grow;
—Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no. 

--Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

"Tied-Up House": Lyrics By Jackie Leven

TIED-UP HOUSE

found a little stone on a harbour wall
sea-spray-soaked and very small
big bay rough and turning brown
little shrimp boat on a dangerous sound

i can't go back to the tied-up house
tied so tight people can't get out
you can hear them wail, you can hear them shout
or they sit in chairs till the silence hurts

the ocean roars from room to room
leaving tide marks in the shallow gloom
i got cuts on my hand from i don't know where
and a sobbing hall that i just can't bear

--Jackie Leven,
from his CD Shining Brother Shining Sister

"A Jar of Pain": Lyrics By Jackie Leven

CLASSIC NORTHERN DIVERSIONS

I took a train out of leeds in the smear and stain

I saw the city pass by in the shuffling rain

I'm in huddersfield drinking in the slubber's arms

and i walked through slush by broken farms

where huddling sheep are turning grey

in the cold light of a nothing day

it took me fifty long years just to work out

that because i was angry didn't mean i was right

now i'm sitting in a bar alone

with the jukebox playing a terrible song

the bartender says I see it's you again

I been drinking deep from a jar of pain

Ch -- i remember once i went home like this

i had my mother in tears as i felt her kiss

now my mother is heavenbound

and her body lies in unmarked ground

in every heart in every home

there's a dying man who lives alone

he close the door and he turn away

and the tide rushes in on a fatal shore

i can never get too close to coal

with a glass in my hand and the ember's crack

but the fire's gone out and the chimney's closed

and there's a round jeer sticking on my back

ch --

I took a train out of leeds in the smear and stain

i saw the city pass by in the shuffling rain

and with chimneys leaning to the sea

i got the salt of sunderland creasing me

i took a jar of pain to the soaking field

and to the lonely seawall inn south shields

if i was a man which i am not

standing in the last of the rotten snow

i'd fall on my knees and cry out loud

to the snowy river and the icy flow

i took a train out of leeds in the smear and stain

i saw the city pass by in the shuffling rain

--Jackie Leven

from his CD Shining Brother Shining Sister

The Crash Test Dummies: "There Are NIghts When All My Aching Bones Won't Let Me Sleep"

THE GHOSTS THAT HAUNT ME

There's a skeleton in everybody's closet
I can think of one or two in my own room
But I would like to introduce them both to you
You'd shake their bony hands and so dispel the gloom

'Cause you're so kind
I know you would not mind
You'd send away the ghosts that haunt me now
And the things I fear
Just wouldn't seem so near
And when I stroll out late at night
There would be nothing rattling at my heels

There are nights when all my aching bones won't let me sleep
And demons come to plague me as I lie in bed
But I know if you were sleeping there beside me then
That you could fend them off and they would let me rest

There are nights
When the wind comes howling through my old place
I have dreams
And I wake up with the sweat pouring down my face
And I wait till the morning comes

There will come a time I fear when all my days are done
And they will come collect my corpse and bury me
And then I hope you'll come over to the Other Side
To join me in our new life, keep me company

--Brad Roberts

from the Crash Test Dummies' debut album:

The Ghosts That Haunt Me