Ideology

Revisited as history repeats itself:

Stop everything
I think I hear the President
The Pied Piper of the TV screen
Is gonna make it simple
And he's got it all mapped out
And illustrated with cartoons
Too hard for clever folks to understand
They're more used to words like:
Ideology . . .
They're not talkin' 'bout right and left
They're talkin' 'bout

Right and wrong - do you know the difference
Right and wrong - do you know the difference
'Tween the right and the left and the east and the west
What you know and the things that you'll never see

So what ya think
You like the Yankees or the Mets this year
And what about this latest war of words
And what about the Commies
I saw the news last night
All illustrated with cartoons
So when they come with that opinion poll
They better not use words like
Ideology . . .
Or try to tell me 'bout the issues
Ideology . . .
Whose side are you on
We're talkin' 'bout

Right and wrong - do you know the difference
Right and wrong - do you know the difference
'Tween the right and the left and the east and the west
What you know and the things that you'll never see

Where are we?

Right and wrong - do you know the difference
Right and wrong - do you know the difference
'Tween the right and the left and the east and the west
What you know and the things that you'll never see

Pure Reality

Nothing – Bill Laswell – one of many versions.

There was nothing.
There was nothing at all.
Either moving or non-moving
It was dark everywhere.
There was no sun
There were no planets
No stars, no moon
There was no day, no night
There was no sound, no touch, no smell,
There was no form, no taste
There were no directions
There was only pure reality.

There was nothing at all

Not graspable by mind or senses or speech.

There were no planets

No stars, no moon.
There was no day or night
There was no sound, no touch, no smell,
No form. Without change
Only pure reality

Battles: Rainbow

ONCE
ONE TIME
I WAS AMAZED
NATURAL DELAY
AND YOUR WIDE VOICE
GOT OUT OF PHASE
I COULDN'T EXPLAIN

WHY
WOULD SOME
ECHO OUT RACE
A STATEMENT AS VAGUE AS
"ONCE
ONE TIME
I WAS AMAZED"
I WAS AMAZED

Atlas Lyrics

HIT the Link and watech the performance!

Songwriters: Braxton, Tyondai; Konopka, David; Stanier, John; Williams, Ian;

People won't be people
When they hear this sound
That's been glowing in the dark at the edge of town

People won't be people
No, the people won't be people when they hear this sound
Won't you show me what begins at the edge of town

People won't be people
When they hear this sound
That's been glowing in the dark at the edge of town

People won't be people
No, the people won't be people when they hear this sound
Won't you show me what begins at the edge of town

Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh

Kitchen is the cook, whoa, ey, oh
Scissors are the barbers, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
The chorus full of actors

People won't be people
When they hear this sound
That's been glowing in the dark at the edge of town

People won't be people
No, the people won't be people when they hear this sound
Won't you show me what begins at the edge of town
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/b/battles-lyrics/atlas-lyrics.html ]

People won't be people
When they hear this sound
That's been glowing in the dark at the edge of town

People won't be people
No, the people won't be people when they hear this sound
Won't you show me what begins at the edge of town

Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh

Kitchen is the cook, whoa, ey, oh
Scissors are the barbers, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
The chorus full of actors

People won't be people
When they hear this sound
That's been glowing in the dark at the edge of town

People won't be people
No, the people won't be people when they hear this sound
Won't you show me what begins at the edge of town

People won't be people
When they hear this sound
That's been glowing in the dark at the edge of town

People won't be people
No, the people won't be people when they hear this sound
Won't you show me what begins at the edge of town

Battles - ddiamondd lyrics

BATTLES DDIAMONDD LYRICS

The diamond that was stolen held the code that melted
water into letters spelling where it had been taken to.
In fact, I had a vision of the numbers corresponding with
the letters T-H-E-D-I-A-M-O-N-D.

They're suspended like a prism splitting floodlight to
poles of primary colours clawing the veil of the vacuum.
There's a picture of this given to authorities, the
sentence,"I'm an architect and here's my prison" written
on it.

With schematics so meticulous the measurements of
superimpositions of a room within the window make a
dream that ends up being such an entity in your
reflection, you are the dream to it, you are the prism.

The mirrors in the corner throwing images against the
other mirrors made counting corners impossible the
breaking news had counted one, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven corners of the
mirrored corners.

Why have you done what you have done something is so
sinister when staring at the diamond something you
have done sinister why have you done this am I in the
mirror am I what you have been staring at am I a
diamond?

Just like a reflection of a friend of mine, I am a
reflection of an enemy, am I a reflection of an enemy,
just like a reflection of a friend of mine?

Billy Bragg's Jerusalem.

Find it here.

National Anthem

I am delighted the Britsh Royal Family have opened a new chapter to their recently clouded epic. Frankly their domestic affairs are none of our business. However I am delighted for the reassertion of the majesty and grandeur of the 'British-at-thei- Best' for it bespeaks a long and frequently glorious past.

I am delighted, too, for the happy couple and their family, BUT I cannot stomach the 'hype' that goes along with it. I studiously avoided all contact with the last Royal wedding for the same reason.

However, on the way from one place to another at about lunch time on the day, I was passing a room where the television was blaring the proceedings of the sacrament and, by chance the hymn  long known to and loved by me, was being performed. These are its lyrics:

JERUSALEM (from 'Milton')
by: William Blake (1757-1827)

ND did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon England's mountains green?

And was the holy Lamb of God

On England's pleasant pastures seen?

 

And did the Countenance Divine

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

 

Bring me my bow of burning gold!

Bring me my arrows of desire!

Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!

Bring me my chariot of fire!

 

I will not cease from mental fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,

Till we have built Jerusalem

In England's green and pleasant land. 

 

If there is a song that constitutes ,my' national anthem, it is this. For it embodied all that I lived and loved while growing up in the UK and it entails all that my 'socialism' -- not yours, or Marx's or that anyone you know  -- represents to me; my political ideology insofar as it can be aid to have one.  For Blake's 'England' read 'the world.'




One can buy choral versions by  of choirs international renown, such as the King's College or John's College Choir (both of Cambridge) or the equally brilliant choir of New College, Oxford. These are fabulous renditions. Another that I admire is that by Billy Bragg:

 

Let America be America Again

I found this one recently - the last idiot on the block to smell the coffee -- and found it to be a precise expression of what it was that lead me to leave the US three decades ago.

Let America Be America Again
by Langston Hughes
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed-- Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.") Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek-- And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak. I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one's own greed! I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-- Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years. Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home-- For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a "homeland of the free." The free? Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we've dreamed And all the songs we've sung And all the hopes we've held And all the flags we've hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay-- Except the dream that's almost dead today. O, let America be America again-- The land that never has been yet-- And yet must be--the land where every man is free. The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME-- Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again. Sure, call me any ugly name you choose-- The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America! O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath-- America will be! Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain-- All, all the stretch of these great green states-- And make America again!

Hoagy Carmichael, Washboard Blues - Lyrics

The following version is transcribed from the 1927 Carmichael recording with Paul Whiteman's Orchestra and the Rhythm Boys

Mornin’ comes with cloudy skies and rain

Ma po back is broke with pain

My man’s sleepin’, I’se ascrubbin’, chillin’, weepin’

I’se arubbin’, Pains acreepin’, clothes atubbin’

All day long.

Up to dat washin’ soap

And down to dat wattah onct mo’

Head down low—head low—

Up to dat washin’ soap

And down to dat wattah wance mo’

Po’ hans go—oh Lordy.

So weary of scrubbin’, days dreary—

So weary of tubbin’ dem clothes,

Up to de washin soap—

Down to dat wattah wance mo’.

Wash Board Blues.

Never git me gon from heah—

Srubbin’ dirty clothes all yeah—

Dem clothes, dem muckety clothes

Dem raggedy clothes, dem grimey clothes, that's all I know

Up and down, back and forth, all year long

Oh Lordy, won’t you hear my song, hear my song.

Washin’ in a shanty on de shore

The river swingin on by de door

Heah dat river—lowly callin’

I’se ashivah—nights afallin’

Heah dat river lowly moanin’—moanin’ low.

I agoin’ to dat river

Goin’ down to dat river some day

Hurry day—hurry day—hurry day—hurry

I agoin’ to dat river—

Goin’ down to dat river someday—

Thro mahself—ma po self—self away—

Oh Lordy

Mus’ akeep scrubbin’—mus’ akeep tubbin’—mus’ akeep drubbin’--mus' akeep tubbin

Them ole dirty clothes—

But I’m goin’ to dat river—

Goin’ down to dat river some day

Hurry day—hurry day—hurry day—hurry.

Open etter to President Obama

To President Obama onthe Morning of His Election Don't Let Me Down

Don't let me down, don't let me down Don't let me down, don't let me down Nobody ever loved me like she does Oh, she does, yeah, she does And if somebody loved me like she do me Oh, she do me, yes, she does Don't let me down, don't let me down Don't let me down, don't let me down I'm in love for the first time Don't you know it's gonna last It's a love that lasts forever It's a love that had no past (Seeking past) Don't let me down, don't let me down Don't let me down, don't let me down And from the first time that she really done me Oh, she done me, she done me good I guess nobody ever really done me Oh, she done me, she done me good Don't let me down, hey don't let me down Heeeee, don't let me down Don't let me down Don't let me down, don't let me let down Can you dig it? Don't let me down

Foucault's -- Michel not Léon --Pendulous Appendage: the Great History of Sexuality.

Michel Foucault has written:

" The society the emerged in the 19th century ... did not confront sex with a fundamental refusal of recognition. On the contrary, it put into operation an entire machinery for producing true discourses concerning it. Not only did it speak of sex and compel everyone to do so; it also set out to formulate the uniform truth of sex. As if it needed this production of truth. As if it was essential that sex be inscribed not only in an economy of pleasure, but in an ordered system of knowledge. Thus sex gradually became an object of great suspicion; the general and disquieting meaning that pervades out conduct and out existence, in spite of ourselves; the point of weakness that we each carry within us; a general signification, a universal secret, an omnipresent cause, a fear that never ends."