Tuscany, October, 2013

 

 

A view from the terrace of a restaurant in Colonnata,
in the marble-quarrying district of Carrara.

 

 

A side street in Sorano

 

 

Another side street in Sorano (Photoshopped a bit)

 

 

"Big Foot," at a museum on the Capitoline Hill (Rome)

 

 

Lake Bolsena

 

 

A window in Milan

 

 

Bikes in Rome

 

 

 

 

 





Songs Dylan wrote, but didn't release (until much later)

I played a John Mellencamp CD today while I was in the car--Rough Harvest--and found myself singing along to "Farewell Angelina," one of my favorite Bob Dylan songs.  Written (or, at least, copyrighted) in 1965, he apparently didn't have room for it on Bringing It All Back Home or Highway 61 Revisited (both 1965) or Blonde on Blonde (1966).  It first appears on The Bootleg Series, Vol. 1 - 3 (1991).  Joan Baez recorded a version for her 1965 album, for which it was the title (and opening) track, which was where I first heard it.  (Lots of YouTube versions are available at this time.)

It's a beautiful--but very strange--song  As with many of Dylan's songs, I'm not sure I understand it, and I'm not sure I need to.

Farewell Angelina
The bells of the crown
Are being stolen by bandits
I must follow the sound
The triangle tingles
And the trumpets play slow
Farewell Angelina
The sky is on fire
And I must go

It's not exactly clear what the relationship between Angelina and the singer is, or why he has to follow or why the sky is on fire.  But apparently he's trying to persuade her not to be angry about it:

There’s no need for anger
There’s no need for blame
There’s nothing to prove
Ev’rything’s still the same
Just a table standing empty
By the edge of the sea
Farewell Angelina
The sky is trembling
And I must leave

Then things get even stranger (although I always thought this verse is a reference to Alice in Wonderland):

The jacks and the queens
Have forsaked the courtyard
Fifty-two gypsies
Now file past the guards
In the space where the deuce
And the ace once ran wild
Farewell Angelina
The sky is folding
I’ll see you in a while

 The next two verses don't make things any clearer, either:

See the cross-eyed pirates sitting
Perched in the sun
Shooting tin cans
With a sawed-off shotgun
And the neighbors they clap
And they cheer with each blast
Farewell Angelina
The sky’s changing color
And I must leave fast 

King Kong, little elves
On the rooftops they dance
Valentino-type tangos
While the makeup man’s hands
Shut the eyes of the dead
Not to embarrass anyone
Farewell Angelina
The sky is embarrassed
And I must be gone

And then we come to the end...

The machine guns are roaring
The puppets heave rocks
The fiends nail time bombs
To the hands of the clocks
Call me any name you like
I will never deny it
Farewell Angelina
The sky is erupting
I must go where it’s quiet

So the sky is the recurring image here.  It's successively "on fire," "trembling,"  "folding," "changing color," "embarrassed," and "erupting."  It's never calm or peaceful.  I think the sky must be the singer's metaphor for the state of his relationship with Angelina...which is clearly not a soothing one.  And eventually, he tells her not just that he's leaving, but where he must go, and, implicitly, why.  I think.

(Lyrics:  http://www.bobdylan.com/us/songs/farewell-angelina)

Is it really possible to pick Springsteen's 10 best songs?

At his blog, Joe Posnanski has a poll asking people to vote for their choices for Bruce Springsteen's 10 best songs.  (Earlier, he asked for nominations, and received 203 different titles.)  He gives us a list of 27 songs:

Atlantic City
Backstreets
Badlands
Born In the U.S.A.
Born to Run
Brilliant Disguise
Dancing in the Dark
Darkness on the Edge of Town
Glory Days
Growin’ Up
Hungry Heart
I’m On Fire
Incident on 57th Street
Jungleland
Land Of Hope And Dreams
No Surrender
The Promise
The Promised Land
Prove it All Night
Racing in the Street
The Rising
The River
Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)
Spirit in the Night
Streets of Philadelphia
Tenth Avenue Freeze Out
 Thunder Road

 The kicker is not just picking 10, but ranking them from 1 (the very best) to 10.

Without comment, here's my list (from #1 to #10):

Born to Run
Thunder Road
The Promised Land
Atlantic City
Brilliant Disguise
Darkness on the Edge of Town
Hungry Heart
No Surrender
The River
Spirit in the Night

Having voted, I realize that I might move "The River" up to #4.  Oh, well.

The Day The Music Died

On February 3, 1957, the airplane carrying Richie Valens, Buddy Holly, and The Big Bopper (J. P. Richardson), and 60+ others crashed.  No one survived.

On February 4, 1957 (my 9th birthday), we read about it in the newspapers and heard about it from our local djs.

On October 24, 1971, the album American Pie, by Don McLean was released.  The song "American Pie" is one of those songs that is somehow both a part of the time of its release and a part of the childhood of everyone around my age:

A long, long time ago
I can still remember how that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while

But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step

I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died

The entire song consists of codes for the passage of time from those deaths to the time that the singer has taken the stage.

Did you write the book of love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Now do you believe in rock and roll
Can music save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues

I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died

Elvis and Don & Phil and Jerry Lee Lewis and Little Richard...Eddie Cochran...

Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone
But that's not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me

Oh, and while the king was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned

And while Lenin read a book on Marx
A quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died

 
Bobby and Elvis again and John, Paul, George, and Ringo.

Helter skelter in a summer swelter
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
It landed foul on the grass
The players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast

Now the halftime air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance

'Cause the players tried to take the field
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?

Mick and Keith and Roger McGuin and David Crosby and Chris Hillman.  And fifty thousand dead.

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play

And in the streets, the children screamed
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died

Janis.  Jimi.  Four dead in Ohio.  And John Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, and Martin Luther King (or so it always seemed to me). 

This is, really, a song about deaths, actual and figurative and spiritual.

And they were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' "This'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die"

 They were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin' "This'll be the day that I die"

 
Good-bye to youth, to illusions.  Hello, reality.  Hello, death.

50 Essential Mysteries Everyone Should Read

This not my list; I found it at a place called Flavorwire,  but it's interesting as  point of departure.  Of the 50, I have read 29, which I have listed here in the order they appeared on Flavorwire (with a few comments).

Conan Doyle, Arthur.  Hound of the Baskervilles.

Sayers, Dorothy L.  Gaudy Night.
Ambler, Eric.  A Coffin for Dimitrios.
Chandler, Raymond.  The Big Sleep.
Hammett, Dashiell.  The Maltese Falcon.
Christie, Agatha.  Murder on the Orient Express.
James, P.D.   An Unsuitable Job for a Woman.
Poe, Edgar Allan.  The First Detective:  Complete Auguste Dupin Stories (The Murders in the Rue
      Morgue; The Mystery of Marie Roget;
      The Purloined Letter).
Carr, Caleb.  The Alienist.
Himes, Chester.  A Rage in Harlem.
Collins, Wilke.  The Woman in White.
Auster, Paul.  The New York Trilogy (The Red Room;
      Ghosts; City of Glass).  (God, how I hate
      these books.)
Moseley, Walter.  Devil in a Blue Dress.
Cain, James M.  The Postman Always Rings Twice.
Le Carre, John.  The Spy Who Came in From the
      Cold.
Hansen, Joseph.  Fadeout.
Eco, Umberto.  The Name of the Rose.
Tey, Josephine.  The Daughter of Time. 
      (Nowhere near her best work.)
Fleming, Ian.  From Russia With Love.
Highsmith, Patricia.  The Talented Mr. Ripley.
Turow, Scott.  Presumed Innocent.
Forsyth, Frederick.  The Day of the Jackal.
Buchan, John.  The 39 Steps.
Follett, Ken.  The Eye of the Needle.
Spillane, Mickey.  I, The Jury.
Greene, Graham.  The Third Man.
Ellory, James.  The Black Dahlia.
Smith, Alexander McCall.  The No. 1 Ladies Detective
       Agency.  (I disliked this so much, I have yet
      to read another of his books.)
McDonald, Ross.  The Blue Hammer. 

And here are the ones I have not read, also with the occasional comment:

Barnes, Julian.  Arthur and George.  (Once owned it.)

Du Maurier, Daphne.  Rebecca.  (Saw the movie.)
Whitehead, Colson.  The Intuitionist.  (Never heard of
      it, or the author.)
Chabon, Michael.  The Yiddish Policemen’s Union. 
      (On the shelf.)
Ishiguro, Kazuo.  When We Were Orphans,  (Never
      heard of it; have heard of the author.)
Faye, Lyndsay.  Dust and Shadow:  An Account of the
      Ripper Killings.  (Never heard of it, or the author.)
Rinehart, Mary Roberts.  The Circular Staircase.
Dunne, John Gregory.  The Confession.
Millar, Margaret.  Beast In View.
Lehane, Dennis.  Mystic River.  (Started it,
      couldn’t finish it.)
Berger, Thomas.  Sneaky People.  (Know the author,
      not the book.)
French, Tana.  In the Woods.  (My wife has it on the
      shelf, but she has not read it, either.)
Vine, Barbara (Ruth Rendell).  A Dark-Adapted Eye. 
      (Know the author; have read some of her
       books as Rendell, started this one and put
      it down.)
Traver, Robert.  Anatomy of a Murder.  (Saw the
      movie.)
Larsson, Stieg.  The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. 
      (Started it; found it unreadable.)
Neely, Barbara.  Blanche on the Run.
Hoeg, Peter.  Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow. 
      (Started it, couldn’t finish it.)
Conrad, Joseph.  The Secret Agent.  (I don’t know,
      but I just never got around to it.)
Nesbo, Jo.  The Snowman.  (Read a couple of
      Nesbo’s books, never wanted to read another.)
Caspary, Vera.  Laura.  (Saw the movie.)
Leonard, Elmore.  La Brave.  (I may be the only
       mystery fan in the world who’s not crazy
      about his work.)

So I have owned 7 of them, started 4 of those.  I've seen movies made from 3 more.  But 11 of them I have never even attempted. 


I'll be back tomorrow (or sometime soon) with some comments about authors who don't appear on the list.

Somebody to Love

I woke up this morning with a voice in my head.  Grace Slick's voice.

When the truth is found to be lies
and all the joy within you dies

Which may not be the most cheerful two lines to wake  up to.  And, then, of course,

 don't you want somebody to love
don't you need somebody to love
wouldn't you love somebody to love
you better find somebody to love

And I'm back in 1967, Surrealistic Pillow has just been released, and my musical world is changing (an you can listen to the whole thing here).  I don't think there'd ever been a voice in rock-and-roll quite like Grace, maybe not ever in any musical genre. 

When the garden flowers baby are dead yes
and your mind , your mind] is so full of dread

Challenging, daring, compelling you to listen.

 your eyes, I say your eyes may look like his
but in your head baby I'm afraid you don't know where it is

 And, yes, I did want somebody to love, and, yes, I did need somebody to love.  But it would be a while. 

don't you want somebody to love
don't you need somebody to love
wouldn't you love somebody to love
you better find somebody to love….love

 And then I did find somebody to love...

 

 

"...maybe this year will be better than the last..."

As 2013 is about to end, I'm thinking about Counting Crow's song "A Long December."   There have been years when the underlying sentiment in the song has been amazingly appropriate for how I felt.

A long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving
Oh the days go by so fast

Not this year, and not for the past several.  Although the years have gotten better, it's not because the years ending have been difficult ones or unhappy ones.  Quite the contrary.

Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after 2 a.m.
And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her 

But there were time when mostly what I had to go on was the hope--the belief--that the year to come would be better.

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

 But for the past decade (and a little more), the moments have passed, but I have welcomed the moments as they have arrived.  With a little luck, and a little work, that's how things will continue.

Happy New Year.