No Laughing Matter

Song 261: This week on the playlist, we've got Peace Love and Understanding by Elvis Costello, written by Nick Lowe. It might seem a bit soon for Costello to show up again, since I posted Girls Talk not so long ago, but that was Linda Ronstadt covering his song, whereas here he's covering a Nick Lowe composition, so I believe that spreads the spotlight around a bit. As you may notice, this week's track continues the peace theme from last week in recognition of the historic agreement reached with the Islamic Republic of Iran and the resulting clash swirling around D.C. as the pro-war gang struggles to derail that deal. In the fall of 1977, I saw EC on his first U.S. tour, and I enjoyed his show, although I liked the opening act (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers) a bit more. I thought this new late-1970s Elvis sounded pretty good, though, and when he came along with this song a year or two later, I felt he had exceeded my expectations. Certainly Dylan, Pete Seeger and a few others had written some good songs about war and peace, but I longed for one that really rocked out, and that also took on the issue with some genuine feeling while delving into the complexity of human conflict instead of painting a simplistic, two-toned good vs. evil picture of the matter, so then EC suddenly had this new track that accomplished all of that, in a way that made it sound easy. As a songwriter myself, I had wanted to meet that challenge, and at the time, it certainly did not come easily to me. I especially like the way this lyric asks why so many people would laugh at the very suggestion of wanting to have peace, when, as H. G. Wells warned us, "If we don't end war, war will end us." Now, more than ever, in this era of atomic weapons, we need to take peace, love and understanding seriously, and to get there while we still can, before we set ourselves on a path to our own destruction.

Peace, For a Chance

Song 260: For this week's playlist track, why not Give Peace a Chance by The Plastic Ono Band, written by John Lennon. While it might seem a bit soon to feature another Lennon song, having posted Ticket to Ride as Song 229, in light of the historic peace deal that the Obama administration, under the guiding hand of Secretary Kerry, has now reached with the Islamic Republic of Iran, I can think of no better song to fit this political moment. The pro-war contingent in Congress has vowed to do everything possible to scuttle this deal, so right now they really need to hear the message of this song. Actually, the entire D.C. government throng needs to hear it, regardless of party affiliation, position or ideology -- hear it, understand it and act on it, as if the future of humanity depended on it, because it very well might. Back in the middle of the summer of 1969, not long before my 18th birthday, I toured Europe for about a month with my high school singing group The Vestal Voices, and near the end of the tour we visited Venice, on Wednesday, 8/13, though we didn't perform there. When we split into smaller contingents, according to the tour rules, we were supposed to chaperone each other so that no one ended up walking around alone, but once again, as usual, my designated companions deserted me. I think they mostly wanted to get some alcohol, which I didn't care to do, but for whatever reason, I soon found myself exploring the streets of one more European city on my own, and while I have always had a good general sense of direction, this time, I did get lost. I had wanted to get beyond the touristy parts of the city, and I managed to do so, finding myself totally alone in an area that was a bit funky, and not at all like the picturesque Venice that graces most photographs of the famous city. I felt a touch of anxiety, not quite knowing where I was, but I had some time, and I expected that I'd find my way back to the group. As I walked along, I heard the sound of an acoustic guitar and John Lennon's voice coming from an upper-story window. About a week earlier, a bunch of us had located the latest Beatles single (The Ballad of John and Yoko/Old Brown Shoe) on a juke box in Munich, and listened to both sides, though the sound quality of the machine made it difficult to hear clearly. Now, here was another new Lennon recording, though it didn't exactly sound like a Beatles track. I liked it a lot on first hearing, even though at the time I still worried about dominoes falling near Viet Nam, and Lennon's view, as expressed in this song, seemed a bit simplistic and naive, but I still wanted to give peace a chance whenever possible. Over the years, as I have gained a deeper understanding of the causes of war, I have come around to John's POV. Meanwhile, not long after I heard this song, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the Bridge of Sighs, as I later wrote in my diary entry for the day. I didn't mention this track in my diary, but 46 years later, I remembered the song moment very well, and also being lost, but didn't recall the Bridge of Sighs until I read the diary. At any rate, over the next 2 months, we all need to strongly aim this message towards D.C. in whatever way we can convey it, because the future survival of humanity may very well depend on whether enough government people there make the right choice to give peace a chance.

Another Turn Comes Around

Song 259: For this week, Tomorrow is My Turn by The Fifth Estate, written by Wayne Wadhams and Don Askew, rocks the playlist. In that long ago era before you could own a movie, the once-yearly broadcast of The Wizard of Oz become an annual event for my school mates and me, well enough established by 1967 that some of my chums, knowing it so thoroughly, might even choose to skip the annual viewing ritual, though it never lost its magic for me. However, when The Fifth Estate released their updated hit version of Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead in the summer of '67, I had no interest in it -- I liked the movie soundtrack and, despite my passion for '60s-style music, I didn't feel that any of the Wizard material needed an update. I had similar feelings about TFE's hit version of Heigh Ho! that followed some months later, so I had no great expectations at that point about liking anything the band did. The following spring, I somehow managed to talk my parents and grandparents into allowing me to buy a small box of rock and roll 45s -- they didn't approve of my interest in the devil's music, but I persuaded them to make a solo exception to what had previously been an unbending rule. The box contained 10 singles, for a very good price, and though I recognized less than half of the titles, I thought it would make a very good start for a record collection, and it did, although not in the way I had anticipated. I already had a small record player set up in my own basement area that could play 45s, and I soon discovered that most of the titles I didn't recognize also didn't thrill me. The existence of that box of singles gave me cover, though, as I began smuggling in 45s that I bought from neighborhood friends when they got tired of their golden oldies, and before long I owned 2 or 3 dozen, but my parents never knew the difference, since my records all sounded the same to them, and I kept most of my vinyl collection hidden except for a handful that I would be playing at any given time. My parents and grandparents said more than once that they regretted allowing me to buy that box of records, but as far as I know, they never caught on to how I had greatly expanded on the original 10 singles. Among that first bunch, though, there was one that I really liked, and that I played a lot, and it was this track, which was actually the B-side of the Morning, Morning 45. I liked and played the A-side as well, but this B-side track left a deeper mark on my musical landscape, to the point where I knew it well enough to sing along even when it wasn't spinning on the turntable, and I understood exactly what the singer meant about when the circle comes 'round.

Play It Again

Song 258: This week's playlist track will get you to Do It Again by Steely Dan, written by Walter Becker and Donald Fagen. Rock and roll had begun to lose its luster by the fall of '72. The radio still played plenty of good songs by new and established artists, but music fans felt the lack of something truly dynamically new. The previous decade had featured acts that practically exploded onto the scene, with a dizzying variety that ranged from The Beatles to Hendrix, Dylan to the Doors, and many seemed to widen the range of possibility with each new release. Near the end of the following decade's 3rd year, rock and roll had not yet produced any really exciting new sounds, and as the listeners wondered how much longer it would take until the Magic Next Big Thing would arrive, this single popped up on the airwaves. It sounded dramatically different from everything else, suggesting magic new musical directions, with lyrics that hinted at poetic possibilities. The album title Can't Buy a Thrill payed homage to Dylan, and raised the prospect that perhaps the Supergroup of the '70s had finally arrived -- a band which would mix the best of the '60s RnR influences together into a unique and timely brew, with words and music that matched the current calendar page. This track sounded so good then, and still does today, but alas, the rest of the album didn't quite fulfill the expectations raised by this cut, even though the LP had plenty of other fine songs. As it turned out, that decade did not produce any acts that truly qualified as the '70s Beatles, the '70s Hendrix or any other updated versions of '60s musical icons, but for a brief moment in the fall of '72, this track raised the possibility that Steely Dan might blaze a new musical trail that would define the era. If you had waited for the arrival of the mythic Supergroup of the '70s, and you thought the wait was over when you heard this song, unfortunately, you had to go back, Jack, and do it again -- waiting, that is, and specifically, waiting for the band that never arrived.