I didn’t have a chance to come up with a “Conversation Song” this week, so in the meantime–though I would never suggest that she’s a mere placeholder–here is Audrey Hepburn.
Something for Thursday
Busy week in progress (more on that to come), but I can still get a song posted! This one might not quite be a “Conversation song”–while the singer is addressing their words to someone, it might be a kind of “open letter” sort of thing, a song meant not to converse but to express a one-way thought.
But perhaps it is a kind of conversation, but not the one that happens in “real time”, as in, two people talking to one another over coffee or whatever. Instead it’s the kind of conversation that takes place between the generations, the ongoing conversation that shapes the young as they hear the wisdom of the old.
Here is Cat Stevens, with “Father and Son”.
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Something for Thursday
Returning to our mini-series of Conversation Songs, where each song’s lyrics give one side of a conversation and leaves the other side un-heard, we have an appearance by Bob Dylan.
“Positively 4th Street” has nothing to do with 4th Street, anywhere at all, judging by its lyrics. And it’s not exactly positive, either; in fact, Dylan’s lyrics are angry and accusatory. The singer is calling out a one-time friend for betrayal, for letting the singer down, for not being there. But he does it in an oddly upbeat melody and tone that just repeat, over and over, with no variation. It’s a very strange song, pairing lyrical bitterness with upbeat-sounding music. Is Dylan mocking the way we often mask our relations with people we dislike in generic niceties and false pleasantry? Maybe. Maybe this is the case of when you run into someone you dislike but for whatever reason you have to play nice–so while you’re being outwardly nice, you’re really thinking, as Dylan sings, “What a drag it is to see you.”
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Something for Thursday
Something for Thursday
Continuing my little series on “One-way Conversation Songs”, when the lyrics are literally one side of a conversation, we take an infrequent trip into Country music this week. In this song, Jo Dee Messina is catching up with a friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, and though her life isn’t perfect and is sometimes a struggle, she’s doin’…well, let her tell you.
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Something for Thursday: Conversation songs, No. 2
Here’s another “Conversation Song”! This is my ongoing series, started last week, in which I feature songs whose lyrics give us one side of a conversation, and we are left to infer the other half.
This week’s song dates from 1976, and the singing duo England Dan and John Ford Coley. It’s a pretty straightforward song: one person is calling the other and suggesting that they get together to, I don’t know, talk old times, maybe rekindle an old relationship.
The lyrics suggest that this is a former love affair, or at least some kind of relationship that ended in a one-sided fashion. For this person to call the other, they have to have not been in contact in a very long time, and there’s a winsome sweetness in the suggestions for a place to go: “We could go walking through a windy park”. The entire song is the suggestion of a get-together; none of the real conversation is in the song at all. But there’s a hint of seriousness in the bridge of the song:
… I won’t ask for promises
So, you don’t have to lie
We’ve both played that game before
Say “I love you”, then say “Goodbye”
Our singer is trying to keep expectations low, downplay the whole thing–but even here they are assuring the other that it won’t get that deep again, even though they’ve “both played that game before”, a game which involves both “I love you” and “goodbye”. One wonders why it’s been such a long time, and what really prompted our singer to pick up the phone. It can’t just be that “warm wind blowing the stars around”.
Here is “I’d Really Love To See You Tonight”, by English Dan and John Ford Coley.
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Something for Thursday (Conversation songs, 1)
I’m going to start something new here: a series within a series! For the next dozen weeks (or more!), Something for Thursday will be devoted to songs with a specific twist: the lyrics are one side of a conversation. The singer is talking to someone, and we only hear what the singer is saying and thus have to infer the other side of the conversation.
I’ve always liked this approach to song lyrics, and it’s a much more common device than you might think. I sent the question out into the Twitterverse a bit ago, and I got a lot of replies, many of which are songs I haven’t even heard before! So that’s exciting: a bunch of these are new to me, which is part of the appeal, after all.
This first one is a song I’ve known for years. I don’t recall when I first heard it, but I think it was sometime when I was in college. Jim Croce was a brilliant songwriter and he was one of those songwriters whose writing skills were matched to his own voice, if that makes sense. Singer-songwriters always write for themselves, but a few of them own their own material so completely that it’s hard to imagine anyone else touching their songs. In this one, Croce is talking to a telephone operator as he tries to call his ex-girlfriend, but he doesn’t know the number. I imagine the operator is being calm and professional as they deal with this sad guy who is calling, late at night, maybe on a rainy night from a payphone outside a bar.
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Something for Thursday
I really hate to play the “[thing] was so much more [quality] back in my day!” game, but…damn, folks, sexy songs were so much sexier back in my day!” I heard this song on Sirius yesterday and I’m telling you, this thing is so sexy it makes me want to light a cigarette when it’s done.
I’ll be in my bunk….
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National Poetry Month, day 14 AND Something for Thursday: Leonard Cohen
The great Canadian songwriter and poet Leonard Cohen demonstrates quite ably the blurring of the lines between song lyrics and poetry. Are lyrics poetry? I’d argue that they are, but they are often slightly limited by their intended use in service to a particular musical form or melody.
Cohen’s lyrics and poems, though, are something else. First, there’s the density of Cohen’s wordplay, his references, and the fact that his songs are often long repetitions of the same melodic material where the focus really, truly is on the words. Second, there was the nature of Cohen’s performances themselves, in which his deep gravelly drawl made his singing of his own songs seem more like poetry readings with rhythm.
Here is a poem of Cohen’s, followed by Cohen himself performing it as a song. Poetry and song exist in the same artspace.
“First We Take Manhattan”, by Leonard Cohen
They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom
For trying to change the system from within
I’m coming now, I’m coming to reward them
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin.
I’m guided by a signal in the heavens
I’m guided by this birthmark on my skin
I’m guided by the beauty of our weapons
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin.
I’d really like to live beside you, baby
I love your body and your spirit and your clothes
But you see that line there moving through the station?
I told you, I told you, told you, I was one of those
Ah you loved me as a loser, but now you’re worried that I
just might win
You know the way to stop me, but you don’t have the
discipline
How many nights I prayed for this, to let my work begin
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin
I don’t like your fashion business mister
And I don’t like these drugs that keep you thin
I don’t like what happened to my sister
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin
I’d really like to live beside you, baby
I love your body and your spirit and your clothes
But you see that line there moving through the station?
I told you, I told you, told you, I was one of those
And I thank you for those items that you sent me
The monkey and the plywood violin
I practiced every night, now I’m ready
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin
Remember me? I used to live for music
Remember me? I brought your groceries in
Well it’s Father’s Day and everybody’s wounded
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin
Here’s the performance:
I have Cohen on the mind today because someone on Twitter asked readers to name their favorite cover song, but they could not name several specific famous covers, two of which are the most familiar covers of “Hallelujah” (likely Cohen’s most famous song), by Rufus Wainwright and by Jeff Buckley, respectively. So I noted my personal favorite cover of that very same song, a cover that deserves a lot more attention.
Here is k.d. lang, and “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen.
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Something for Thursday
Well, I suppose that having mentioned these two songs in today’s poetry post, I have to use them here. Take it away, Mr. Denver!