npr/ap

Music Superstar Whitney Houston Dies

Whitney Houston, who ruled as pop music's queen until her majestic voice and regal image were ravaged by drug use, erratic behavior and a tumultuous marriage to singer Bobby Brown, died Saturday. She was 48.

The Beverly Hills Police Department say Houston was found dead Saturday afternoon at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. The cause of death has not been reported. Her body remained in the hotel and Beverly Hills detectives were investigating.

Houston's death came on the eve of music's biggest night — the Grammy Awards. It's a showcase where she once reigned, and her death was sure to cast a heavy pall on Sunday's ceremony.

The biggest devil is me. I'm either my best friend or my worst enemy.
- Whitney Houston in a 2002 interview

"I am absolutely heartbroken at the news of Whitney's passing," music producer Quincy Jones said in a written statement. "I always regretted not having had the opportunity to work with her. She was a true original and a talent beyond compare. I will miss her terribly." [more]

rip

#ows

BANKS ARE MADE OF MARBLE

I've traveled round this country
From shore to shining shore.
It really made me wonder
The things I heard and saw.

I saw the weary farmer,
Plowing sod and loam;
I heard the auction hammer
A knocking down his home.

CHORUS:
But the banks are made of marble,
With a guard at every door,
And the vaults are stuffed with silver,
That the farmer sweated for.

I saw the seaman standing
Idly by the shore.
I heard the bosses saying,
Got no work for you no more.

But the banks are made of marble,
With a guard at every door,
And the vaults are stuffed with silver,
That the seaman sweated for.

I saw the weary miner,
Scrubbing coal dust from his back,
I heard his children cryin',
Got no coal to heat the shack.

But the banks are made of marble,
With a guard at every door,
And the vaults are stuffed with silver,
That the miner sweated for.

I've seen my brothers working
Throughout this mighty land;
I prayed we'd get together,
And together make a stand.

FINAL CHORUS:
Then we'd own those banks of marble,
With a guard at every door;
And we'd share those vaults of silver,
That we have sweated for.

Words and Music by Les Rice

#occupywallstreet

going slow

Mississippi schools get tough on bullies

...a video circulating the Internet showed a special needs child in a north Mississippi district being punched in the face.

And in Yazoo County a couple of years ago, a girl carried a gun onto the school bus because she said she had been the victim of bullying, one of the instances lawmakers used to illustrate the need for a stricter law.

Bullying doesn't apply only to students, either: Moss Point's high school principal was recently fired in part for alleged bullying of a subordinate.

In response to the rising problem, Mississippi last year passed a new, tougher anti-bullying law. The law requires that all districts have a policy and procedure prohibiting bullying under any conditions. Teachers and coaches, under the law, are required to report any suspected bullying to administrators.

It includes off-campus incidents such as school-bus and cyber bullying.

The onus is on principals to investigate each case.... [more]

Mississippi Goddam
(1963) Nina Simone

The name of this tune is Mississippi Goddam
And I mean every word of it

Alabama's gotten me so upset
Tennessee made me lose my rest
And everybody knows about Mississippi Goddam

Alabama's gotten me so upset
Tennessee made me lose my rest
And everybody knows about Mississippi Goddam

Can't you see it
Can't you feel it
It's all in the air
I can't stand the pressure much longer
Somebody say a prayer

Alabama's gotten me so upset
Tennessee made me lose my rest
And everybody knows about Mississippi Goddam

This is a show tune
But the show hasn't been written for it, yet

Hound dogs on my trail
School children sitting in jail
Black cat cross my path
I think every day's gonna be my last

Lord have mercy on this land of mine
We all gonna get it in due time
I don't belong here
I don't belong there
I've even stopped believing in prayer

Don't tell me
I tell you
Me and my people just about due
I've been there so I know
They keep on saying "Go slow!"

But that's just the trouble
"do it slow"
Washing the windows
"do it slow"
Picking the cotton
"do it slow"
You're just plain rotten
"do it slow"
You're too damn lazy
"do it slow"
The thinking's crazy
"do it slow"
Where am I going
What am I doing
I don't know
I don't know

Just try to do your very best
Stand up be counted with all the rest
For everybody knows about Mississippi Goddam

I made you thought I was kiddin' didn't we

Picket lines
School boycotts
They try to say it's a communist plot
All I want is equality
for my sister my brother my people and me

Yes you lied to me all these years
You told me to wash and clean my ears
And talk real fine just like a lady
And you'd stop calling me Sister Sadie

Oh but this whole country is full of lies
You're all gonna die and die like flies
I don't trust you any more
You keep on saying "Go slow!"
"Go slow!"

But that's just the trouble
"do it slow"
Desegregation
"do it slow"
Mass participation
"do it slow"
Reunification
"do it slow"
Do things gradually
"do it slow"
But bring more tragedy
"do it slow"
Why don't you see it
Why don't you feel it
I don't know
I don't know

You don't have to live next to me
Just give me my equality
Everybody knows about Mississippi
Everybody knows about Alabama
Everybody knows about Mississippi Goddam

That's it for now! see ya' later

star-ledger

Amy Winehouse:
The newest member of 'The 27 Club'

If you stop and look at the ages, it's downright creepy. Amy Winehouse, who was found dead on Saturday at her London home, is the latest musician to enter rock music's infamous "27 Club."

Named for the group of influential artists who all died at age 27, there seems to be a pattern at hand: An incredible amount of musical talent, a definite self-destructive flair and possible drug or alcohol addiction.

Winehouse died at 27 years, 311 days. In the order of their death, here are some of the more famous members of "The 27 Club":

Robert Johnson (27 years, 100 days): The mystical bluesman recorded just 29 songs but influenced a generation of rockers. Much of Johnson's life was indeed mythical, but it's suspected that he died of strychnine poisoning on Aug. 16, 1938, in Greenwood, Miss.

Brian Jones (27 years, 125 days): The Rolling Stones guitarist drowned in a swimming pool on July 3, 1969, in Hartfield, Sussex, England. The coroner's report stated it was "death by misadventure."

Jimi Hendrix (27 years, 295 days): On Sept. 18, 1970, the pioneering rock guitarist died in Kensington, Greater London, England. Hendrix asphyxiated on vomit after combining sleeping pills with wine.

Janis Joplin (27 years, 258 days): Known as the Queen of Rock 'n' Roll as well as the Queen of Psychedelic Soul, the bluesy rock vocalist died on Oct. 4, 1970, in Los Angeles. The official cause of death was an overdose of heroin, possibly combined with the effects of alcohol.

Jim Morrison (27 years, 207 days): The charismatic lead singer of The Doors died on July 3, 1971, in Paris. His cause of death was listed as "heart failure," but no autopsy was ever performed.

Kurt Cobain (27 years, 44 days): The founding member, lead singer, guitarist and songwriter for Nirvana was found dead on April 5, 1994, in Seattle. His death was ruled a suicide.

& from wikipedia

Alan "Blind Owl" Wilson. September 3, 1970. Barbiturate overdose, possible suicide. Leader, singer and primary composer of Canned Heat.

Ron "Pigpen" McKernan. March 8, 1973. Gastrointestinal hemorrhage associated with alcoholism. Founding member, keyboardist and singer of the Grateful Dead.

& a lot more. it really is weird.

(Love Is Like a) Heat Wave
Lamont Dozier, Eddie Holland & Brian Holland

Whenever I'm with you
Somethin' inside
Starts to burnin'
And I'm filled with desire
Could it be a devil in me?
Or is this the way love's supposed to be?
It's like a heatwave
Burnin' in my heart
I can't keep from cryin'
It's tearin' me apart

Whenever you call my name
So slow, sweet and plain
I feel, yeah, yeah
I feel that burnin' flame
Has high blood pressure got a hold on me?
Or is this the way love's supposed to be?
It's like a heatwave
Burnin' in my heart
I can't keep from cryin'
It's tearin' me apart

Sometimes I stare in space
Tears all over my face
I can't explain it
Don't understand it
I ain't never felt like this before
Now that funny feelin' has me amazed
Don't know what to do
My head's in a haze
It's like a heatwave

Don't pass up this chance
This time it's true romance
It's like a heatwave

ny times

In Praise of Not Knowing

By TIM KREIDER

WHEN I was 17, I took a record of John Cage’s piano pieces out of the library. The pieces were interesting, but what really arrested my attention was the B-side of the album — a work called “The Dreamer That Remains,” by a composer I’d never heard of named Harry Partch. This was music from another planet: unearthly yowling strings, metallic twangs, rippling liquid percussion. I couldn’t even identify the instruments.

I loaned the record to a friend of mine, the only other person in the world I then knew who liked classical music. The piece’s refrain, in which a chorus of corpses in a funeral home sing, “Let us loiter together/And know one another,” became a two-man in-joke between us. For years, as far as we could tell, we were the only people who knew about Harry Partch. He was, in a sense, ours.

This was in the ’80s, a time when there was simply no way of learning much more about Harry Partch, at least not that I knew of. If I were a 17-year-old discovering Harry Partch today, I could Google him, and I’d immediately find the Harry Partch Information Center and Corporeal Meadows, where I’d learn all about his system of intonation with a 43-note octave and his instruments made of bamboo, jet-engine nose cones, artillery-shell casings and whiskey bottles, with names like the Gourd Tree, Boo II, Zymo-Xyl and Marimba Eroica. I’d even find listings for the rare public performances of Partch’s work. Maybe most important, I’d be able to connect with hundreds of other people who were interested in Harry Partch, avant-garde music and other weird stuff, and not have to feel so eccentric and freakish and alone.

All of which is good, of course. That’s what the Internet is for, yes? Information — zettabytes of information — at our instantaneous disposal.

Except if I’m recalling correctly, adolescents secretly like feeling eccentric and freakish and alone, hoarding pop arcana and cultivating ever-dweebier erudition. They recite lines from cult movies like “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” “Repo Man” and “Napoleon Dynamite” as though they were passwords to a speakeasy; wear buttons bearing the names of obscure music groups as if they were campaign ribbons; and list favorite films and books and bands on their Facebook pages as if they were as essential as name and age and gender.

That proprietary sense that my friend and I had about Harry Partch, our sense of belonging to an exclusive club of cognoscenti, is why teenagers get so disgusted when everybody else in the world finds out about their favorite band. It’s fun being In the Know, but once everyone’s in it, there’s nothing to know anymore.

There was, back then, a genre of literature whose purpose was simply to let you know about cool stuff you might not have heard about. The beloved Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine consisted of stills from half-forgotten horror films like “It! The Terror from Beyond Space” and “Taste the Blood of Dracula.” The copy seemed to have been written not only for but by 10-year-old boys who’d stayed up all night: crazed, breathless and completely exhaustive scene-by-scene descriptions of the entire plots of those movies.

When I was older, I pored over a book called “Cult Films” that described the plots of movies like “King of Hearts,” “Harold and Maude” and “Behind the Green Door.” This was not only before the Internet, but also before home video. The only way you were ever going to see any of these films was if they happened to be on TV late at night or came to a repertory theater near you, which, if you lived in suburban Maryland, good luck.

There are some celebrated films that have long been hard to find on DVD or the Internet: Stanley Kubrick’s first feature, “Fear and Desire,” the British absurdist black comedy “The Bed-Sitting Room,” Joseph Losey’s “Secret Ceremony.” When I found out the former two, at least, had become available, I was almost disappointed. It was fun not being able to see them, not having every last thing a click away. Because what we cannot find inflames the imagination.

Kurt Cobain once said in an interview that long before he’d heard any actual punk rock music, he studied magazine photos of punk musicians and imagined what the music sounded like. It must have sounded to him — who knows? — something like what would later be called grunge.

Instant accessibility leaves us oddly disappointed, bored, endlessly craving more. I’ve often had the experience of reading a science article that purported to explain some question I’d always wondered about, only to find myself getting distracted as soon as I started reading the explanation. Not long ago the Hubble telescope observed that Pluto’s surface is changing rapidly, and noticeably reddening. It’s not a bland white ball of ice, but the color of rust and soot. We’re not likely to learn anything more until the New Horizons spacecraft gets there in 2015. In the meantime, we just get to wonder.

I find this mysterious and tantalizing. As soon as I began reading possible explanations — ultraviolet light interacting with chemicals, blah blah blah — I started to lose interest. Just knowing that there is an answer is somehow deflating. If some cryptozoologist actually bagged a Yeti and gave it a Latin name, it would just be another animal. An intriguing animal, no doubt, but would it really be any more bizarre or improbable than a giraffe or a giant squid?

I hope kids are still finding some way, despite Google and Wikipedia, of not knowing things. Learning how to transform mere ignorance into mystery, simple not knowing into wonder, is a useful skill. Because it turns out that the most important things in this life — why the universe is here instead of not, what happens to us when we die, how the people we love really feel about us — are things we’re never going to know.

Tim Kreider, a cartoonist and essayist, is the author of the forthcoming collection “We Learn Nothing.”

'Book of Mormon' wins big at the Tony Awards

The profane and hysterical "The Book of Mormon" took home nine Tony Awards on Sunday including the prize for best musical, a considerable achievement for a pair of first-time Broadway playwrights known more for their raunchy cartoons featuring potty-mouthed kids.

Trey Parker and Matt Stone, creators of the Emmy Award-winning "South Park," found a kindred soul in Robert Lopez, who co-wrote the Tony-winning "Avenue Q," and all three found themselves with plenty of awards when they collaborated to gently mock Mormons and send-up Broadway itself.

Collecting the best musical prize, a subdued Parker, who tied Josh Logan of "South Pacific" with four Tonys in one evening — said he'd be remiss if he didn't thank his late book co-writer — Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon religion.

"You did it, Joseph! You got the Tony!" Parker said looking skyward and holding up his award.

The show, which netted honors for best musical, best book, best direction of a musical, best score, best featured actress and four technical awards, came in with a leading 14 nominations and was the heavy favorite for the top musical prize.

"We know what the best musical is — it's like taking a hooker to dinner," comedian Chris Rock said before reading the nominees and announcing the winner.

[more]

December 8, 2010

Amid all the reminders of the death of John Lennon 30 years ago — who he was, and why he mattered so much to so many — host Neal Conan thought it might be nice to hear one of his songs, all the way through. He selected "In My Life."

NEAL CONAN, host:

Amid all the reminders of the death of John Lennon, 30 years ago today, who he was and why he mattered so much to so many, we thought it might be nice to hear one of his songs all the way through.

THE BEATLES: (Singing)

There are places I remember
all my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
with lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
in my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
there is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
when I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
for people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affection
for people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more

CONAN: John Lennon, "In My Life," from the Beatles' "Rubber Soul."

This is NPR News.

[listen]

buffy sainte-marie was on democracy now! yesterday. she's written a lot of great songs.

this is the one i want to post here:

Universal Soldier
Words and music Buffy Sainte-Marie
Copyright Caleb Music

He's five foot two and he's six foot four
He fights with missiles and with spears
He's all of 31 and he's only 17
He's been a soldier for a thousand years

He's a Catholic, a Hindu, an atheist, a Jain,
A Buddhist, and a Baptist and a Jew
And he knows he shouldn't kill
and he knows he always will
Kill you for me, my friend, and me for you

He's fighting for Canada. He's fighting for France.
He's fighting for the USA
and he's fighting for the Russians
and he's fighting for Japan
And he thinks he'll put an end to war this way

He's fighting for democracy,
he's fighting for the Reds
He's says it’s for the peace of all
He's the one who must decide
who's to live and who's to die
And he never sees the writing on the wall

But without him how would Hitler have
condemned him at Dachau
Without him Caesar would have stood alone.
He's the one who gives his body
as a weapon to a war
And without him all this killing can't go on

He's the universal soldier and he really is to blame
But his orders come from far away no more
They come from him and you and me
and Brothers, can't you see
this is not the way to put an end to war?

PIRATE JENNY

By Bertolt Brecht, Kurt Weill
(From THREE PENNY OPERA -1928)

You people can watch while I'm scrubbing
these floors
And I'm scrubbin' the floors while you're gawking
Maybe once ya tip me and it makes ya feel swell
In this crummy Southern town
In this crummy old hotel
But you'll never guess to who you're talkin'.
No. You couldn't ever guess to who you're talkin'.

Then one night there's a scream in the night
And you'll wonder who could that have been
And you see me kinda grinnin' while I'm scrubbin'
And you say, "What's she got to grin?"
I'll tell you.

There's a ship
The Black Freighter
with a skull on its masthead
will be coming in

You gentlemen can say, "Hey gal, finish them floors!
Get upstairs! What's wrong with you! Earn your keep
here!
You toss me your tips
and look out to the ships
But I'm counting your heads
as I'm making the beds
Cause there's nobody gone to sleep here, honey
Nobody
Nobody!

Then one night there's a scream in the night
And you say, "Who's that kicking up a row?"
And ya see me kinda starin' out the winda
And you say, "What's she got to stare at now?"
I'll tell ya.

There's a ship
The Black Freighter
turns around in the harbor
shootin' guns from her bow

Now
You gentlemen can wipe off that smile off your face
Cause every building in town is a flat one
This whole frickin' place will be down to the ground
Only this cheap hotel standing up safe and sound
And you yell, "Why do they spare that one?"
Yes.
That's what you say.
"Why do they spare that one?"

All the night through, through the noise and to-do
You wonder who is that person that lives up there?
And you see me stepping out in the morning
Looking nice with a ribbon in my hair

And the ship
The Black Freighter
runs a flag up its masthead
and a cheer rings the air

By noontime the dock
is a-swarmin' with men
comin' out from the ghostly freighter
They move in the shadows
where no one can see
And they're chainin' up people
and they're bringin' em to me
askin' me,
"Kill them NOW, or LATER?"
Askin' ME!
"Kill them now, or later?"

Noon by the clock
and so still by the dock
You can hear a foghorn miles away
And in that quiet of death
I'll say, "Right now.
Right now!"

Then they'll pile up the bodies
And I'll say,
"That'll learn ya!"

And the ship
The Black Freighter
disappears out to sea
And
on
it
is
me






MOON OVER ALABAMA

By Kurt Weill, Bertolt Brecht
(From THE RISE AND FALL OF THE CITY OF MAHAGONNY - 1930)

Show us the way to the next whiskey bar
Don't ask why
For we must find the next whiskey bar
Or if we don't find the next whiskey bar
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you - I tell you - I tell you we must die

Oh Moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have whiskey ... you know why

Oh Moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have whiskey ... you know why

Show us the way to the next dollar
Don't ask why
For we must find the next little dollar
Or if we don't find the next little dollar
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you
I tell you
I tell you we must die

Oh Moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have dollar or you know why

Oh Moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We've lost our good old mama
And must have dollar or you know why

Oh show us the way to the next little girl
Oh don't ask why
For we must find the next little girl
Or if we don't find the next little girl
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you - I tell you
I tell you we must die

Oh moon of Alabama
It's time to say goodbye
We've lost our good old mama
We must have little girl or you know why

Oh moon of Alabama
It's time to say goodbye
We've lost our good old mama
We must have little girl or you know why





LOST IN THE STARS
By Maxwell Anderson & Kurt Weill

Before Lord God made the sea and the land,
He held all the stars in the palm of his hand.
And they ran through his fingers like grains of sand,
And one little star fell alone.
Then the Lord God hunted through the wide night air
For the little dark star on the wind down there.
And he stated and promised he'd take special care
So it wouldn't get lost again.
Now a man don't mind if the stars grow dim
And the clouds blow over and darken him,
So long as the Lord God's watching over them,
Keeping track of how it all goes on.
But I've been walking all the night and the day,
Till my eyes get weary and my head turns gray.
And sometimes it seems maybe God's gone away,
And we're lost out here in the stars.
Little stars, big stars, blowing through the night,
And we're lost out here in the stars.
Little stars, big stars, blowing through the night,
And we're lost out here in the stars.

link

Know Your Enemy - Green Day

Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy

Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy

Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy

Violence is an energy
Against the enemy
Violence is an energy

Bringing on the fury
The choir infantry
Revolt against the honor to obey

Overthrow the effigy
The vast majority
Burning down the foreman of control

Silence is the enemy
Against your urgency
So rally up the demons of your soul

Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy

Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy

The insurgency will rise
When the blood’s been sacrificed
Don’t be blinded by the lies
In your eyes

Violence is an energy
From here to eternity
Violence is an energy
Silence is the enemy
So gimme gimme revolution

Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy

Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy

Overthrow the effigy
The vast majority
Burning down the foreman of control

Silence is the enemy
Against your urgency
So rally up the demons of your soul

avoiding risk is the biggest risk of all—whatever that means

i don't even know where the super bowl got played this year, but midfield time-warped into mid-'80s first avenue & 7th street, minneapolis as the artist still and forever known as prince—looking exactly the same except maybe a bit taller—staged what may have been the most expensive halftime show in football history.

lighting effects, fireworks, on-stage female dancers, surrounded on-field not only by a choreographed "marching band" doing the kind of dancing the nation saw in purple rain but also by a frenzied gang of arm-waving female "spectators" all bearing little lights that a distant shot made a swarm of fireflies, and no malfunctions anywhere, wardrobe or otherwise—prince left nothing to chance.

if only our policymakers and strategists were so committed to perfection.

in a near-forgotten age, the best and brightest young members of society aspired to careers in the military and civil service. then came what we call "progress," which led to relatively widespread prosperity and increased leisure, which allowed younger generations to follow their bliss, as myth scholar joseph campbell put it. in the 1950s rhythm'n'blues and rock'n'roll inspired a lot of kids to pick up guitars and learn to sing. after the '50s, the trend grew and continued. more seekers of excellence risked the unknown and went into the arts and sciences rather than public service, leaving more room in government and the military for folk who cleave to faith and leave much to chance.

so we get a prince and a bush.

maybe 8 or 10 years ago a guy who might not have been born before 1970 came up to me during an intermission in a poetry read and said "i think i know why the '60s failed." unfortunately i'm very opinionated—as you may have noticed. i came right back with "i don't think the '60s did fail." i must've gotten distracted, because much to my regret i never did hear what he had to say. for all i know he was right.

but whether or not a time period could be said to succeed or fail, it's clear some folk who could've learned the lessons of the '60s just weren't paying attention. many of them still inhabit a comic-book reality where good eternally battles evil, where a supernatural hero will surely save us from devastating natural forces unleashed by human folly, where those who have no such faith or a different worldview are godless liberals or secular humanists or moral relativists in league with the devil.

in my reality civilization is populated not by good and evil beings but by human beings. they experience belief and ignorance, desire and frustration, hope and fear, joy and sadness, love and hate, rage and tenderness, pleasure and pain, strength and weakness, fullness and emptiness. they desire the greatest good for the greatest number, but they make mistakes.

i couldn't possibly name all the sources of human error. they can be physical, mental, or emotional. some would add "spiritual" to the list, tho i think i've already accounted for it with "mental" and "emotional."

but all take risks, whether they know it or not, and errors get made, for they are human, or unintended consequences occur.

among knowing risk-takers, those who seek excellence—including some of the faithful—try to reduce risk of harm to themselves and others by leaving as little as possible to chance. others unknowingly give chance free reign as they await their messiah and/or seek riches and power, so the poor get poorer and the ecosystem deteriorates and international tensions rise and antagonism within nations grows and people suffer and die.

i won't say everything would get better if all leaders played musical instruments—after all, harry truman and richard nixon were amateur musicians who left us the cold war and the energy crisis—but i do think it would help if they and we remembered that the various countries and groups that seem to threaten our existence are not monoliths entirely made up of "commies" or "evildoers" or "extremists" but human beings.