Song Talk
I know I keep claiming that "normal" blogging will resume presently. I'm sticking to that story. The aftermath of the "democracy, whisky, sexy" cyberbusking experiment and the mini-tour has been a bit crazy. I got around 3,000 emails (though Lord knows a great deal of it may be spam) and I haven't had a chance to sort through much of it. Plus, I still haven't got around to sleeping off twelve days or so of stored-up hangovers. If you emailed and are waiting for a response, it may be awhile, but I promise it'll come, either as a reply or as something posted here.
I've been really digging the comments that I've read so far, both on the mp3 and the eight song CD that I was selling at the shows. Once I get my act together, I'm going to try to respond to some of the more interesting observations by writing about them on the blog. (I know that will bore some people, so sorry in advance...)
"democracy..." confused a lot of people, which I suppose was intentional. That is, much of it was deliberately cast in ambiguous terms. I got a fair amount of mail noting inconsistencies, contradictions, and failings in the narrator's "analysis" of Iraq and understanding of current events. (They always assume this narrator is, uncomplicatedly, me, which is a fascinating topic for future discussion. In fact, I'm hardly ever the narrator of my songs, and even when I am, it's a funny, less-than-accurate or -complete version of myself.)
The third verse in particular was criticized for feeble logic: of course, no one can tell the future from a gut feeling. But hope is kind of like that. I'll have more to say about this later, but I really find it fascinating that there is such a need on the part of some sincere listeners to find an unambivalent, didactic "message" in a song of this type. They see the ambivalence, the narrator's failings or quirks or kinks, as a deficiency in the song, rather than as a successful characterization. I worked pretty hard at the ambiguity, as it happens. "I just have to know," said one correspondent: "are you being sarcastic or sincere?" That question is never as easy to answer as people think it is. I think the narrator is sincere in that he is utterly lacking in cynicism, yet he is vaguely aware, if inarticulately, of the irony embodied in the use of the word "democracy" on two sides of a great cultural/experiential divide. Wondering what the man from Najaf means when he says "democracy" raises the question of what we mean-- and the narrator is asking that question without, perhaps, realizing it.
Since I hardly ever write topical songs (and indeed, among my fans, it's well known that I have on occasion expressed a fairly dim view of "political songs" in general) I've received quite a few queries as to my motivation for writing it in the first place. As this ties in to the subject of what the narrator and I share, and as I'm getting a bit tired of typing it out in individual emails, I'll say something about it, though I have to admit I'm a bit uncomfortable with it. It's not something I've ever discussed before explicitly. But I started this whole "squawk about songs" deal, so here goes:
When I first read the NYT story about the man from Najaf, I reacted like most people, I guess. I found the anecdote funny, sweet, unique and irresistibly charming. Like practically everybody else I smiled inwardly and said to myself something like: I couldn't have said it better myself. Isn't that really what America is all about after all? It occurred to me that it would only be a matter of time before this irresistible catch phrase was turned into a song by some quick-off-the-mark songwriter or band. And I thought, whoever does that first could make some kind of splash.
But I didn't really consider writing one myself. As I said, I don't usually write topical songs, and I try never to write songs that don't have a personal emotional resonance, however goofy. They never go anywhere.
Then I watched the footage of the Saddam statue being pulled down and the people quite literally jumping for joy, dragging the head through the street, ecstatically thumping it with shoes. I was really profoundly moved by this. It was impossible not to share their quite obviously sincere elation, exhilaration. Whatever complications, whatever horrible events might lay ahead, to whatever degree American action may have been spurred by considerations other than pure altruism, I felt I could feel a bit of their joy, even if only as a voyeur rather than a participant. Democracy is exciting, fragile, complicated, powerful. Democracy is, America is, beautiful and deep. Sexy. Confusing. Hard to pin down. Occasions for such sweeping, all-encompassing emotional swells aren't that common, at least, they aren't for me.
But I also couldn't help thinking of that man from Najaf. Where was he, what was he doing, what was going to happen to him, what was going to happen to all of them? It occurred to me that the words he used, that we turned into a charming catchphrase, reflected an understanding of America that I couldn't necessarily completely understand, nor could I ever really know if I understood it. I think it probably says something about me that I took such pleasure in the anecdote, that I felt a sort of kinship with this man based on a wry understanding of a few words. I noticed a similarity between his view of America, and our view of him: true enough, perhaps, but shaped by dreams, hopes, a sense of irony, maybe some self-deceptiveness, benevolent yet a bit uncomprehending. Something clicked, and a self-sustaining narrator emerged (which is what a good song requires) and the song pretty much wrote itself. Like me, this guy was watching TV, reading the Times, elated yet maybe slightly puzzled, vaguely questioning the meaning of the terms that refer to an overwhelmingly "real" and immediate experience. In the end he settles upon hope, with slight reservations. I think he's right to do so. At least, I hope so.
As the phrase goes, that's probably more than you wanted to know, but drop me a line, as always, with comments or questions if you've got any.
I've really enjoyed this whole cyberbusking experience. The write-record-release-get critiqued-respond process, which usually takes a couple of years, has run a "cycle" in about two weeks. So I may try it again in the coming weeks, though I daresay my other tunes probably won't have quite as much blogospheric appeal. Developing...
Posted by Dr. Frank at May 7, 2003 07:56 AM | TrackBack