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a day for songs November 15. 2000 |
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olde city:
some really important historical looking building *
Delancey Street *
blue skies *
coming to the graveyard *
with my little tune |
I had several songs stuck in my head as I was going downtown this morning. One was "Shackamaxon Street", sung by Susan Werner. I guess it was because I was walking right near the actual Shackamaxon Street (Susan Werner's from Philadelphia, so local places often make it into her songs), right near the river. The words kept refraining in my head: That old Shackamaxon Street, sugar refinery
For some reason, that last line just kept coming back to me, over and over, and it made me think of John. Then, as I was crossing a street, I looked up to see a street sign saying "Delancey Street", which also reminded me of John, because he used to live on Delancey Street - the one in New York City. I had no idea there was one in Philadelphia, too. I was passing by an old graveyard, and I noticed the gates were open, and upon seeing people roaming around inside, I went in too, and took some pictures of the impossibly blue sky, the leaves crunching underfoot, and the sunshine reflecting and making the gravestones gleam and shine. I began humming "Graveyard" by Tori Amos. It's a little song, maybe a minute long, but very beautiful and full of longing. here I said It's been a day for songs, songs flitting in and out of my head, little phrases and melodies and lyrics that I sing absently to myself, often unaware that I'm doing so. I came home and canvassed my mp3s for something interesting. Rob mentioned that today was Aaron Copland's birthday, and fond memories of his music prompted me to download Appalachian Spring. I'd forgotten just how breathtaking the whole thing is. It reminds me of huge wide open spaces, rolling green hills, and diving and soaring over the landscape like a bird. I listened to Joni's version of "Summertime" (which can be found on one of Herbie Hancock's albums), her smoky voice sliding over the notes, playing with and manipulating the familiar and oft-sung phrases so they became something entirely different. A couple weeks ago on RDT, I asked a question of the membership: "What song gives you an incredible rush, brings tears to your eyes, and makes your heart beat faster?" For me, the answer is "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen. I am absolutely transfixed by this song. When it's playing, I can only sit and listen to it and concentrate on nothing else until the four minutes and twenty-nine seconds are up.
In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream The lyrics and melody are so fluid, and with such a sense of desperation and finality to them. I've always found Bruce Springsteen's songs exhilarating, songs that are good to play while driving really fast on a highway with all the windows down. Isn't music just amazing? It's such a gift, really, the words and melodies we craft together to live and love by. Songs that weave themselves into our lives until they're inextricably linked with a place, a person, or a feeling. Songs that define a generation, or a decade, or an event. It's powerful magic. One Year Ago: all writings,
(c) 1999-2000, BRR
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