Friday, 29 July 2016

EVENSONG. They believe that evil deeds would never fail. Ry Cooder''s Wall Street Part of Town

 The Great Folk Music Scare of the nineteen-sixties came,
 in the end, to nothing;
 little Paul Simon 

now cheerleads for the ghastly Clinton; 

little Bob Dylan 

is happiest having medals hung on him 
by whichever criminal occupies the White House,  

I guess it's the new protest song, Last Night I had me my Dinner with the President and Some of my Accountants and Lawyers, babe. 
 Many of those people who adapted the ballads of the poor, charging royalties for them,  are now filthy rich, part of the very Corporate Larceny against which they railed, kinda, in song.

Maestro Cooder, though, has never disappointed, musically or socially. 

 This song is from his 2012 album of protest, Election Special, and although it was written with Mitt Romney and the Republicans in mind it forms an equally sweet soundtrack to the  campaign of the billionaire, redneck, racist, capital punishment-happy Clintons.
I always wonder why it is that, in America, None Of The Above has never caught on, that to be appalled by Trump means you have to vote for Clinton, or vice versa, but maybe, just maybe,  our rejectionist vote -  for Brexit -  is stiffening non-conformist sinews everywhere.

The Wall Street Part of Town
I’m walkin’ if it takes all night
Hopin’ that we can make things right
And I’m lookin’ for the Wall Street part of town

I’m standin’ in the pourin’ rain
Tryin’ to throw off my chains 

And I’m lookin’ for the Wall Street part of town
I’m in trouble again but this time I’m not the only one
I was hurtin’ before but this time I’m not a lonely one

Divide and rule, that’s always been their plan
We’re in trouble again but this time we’ve got friends
So I’ll keep walkin’ if it takes all night
A-hopin’ we gonna make things right
I’m lookin’ for the Wall Street part of town
They believe that evil deeds would never fail
They had a-you and me swinging by the tail
But look who’s swinging now, what’s that sound I hear
A mighty wind whistling past their ears
So I…

Here are just some of the luminaries supporting Wall Street, supporting one criminal family over another; 
I mean, who can lose, with Elton John on their side?

Voice artists and musicians


Mike said...

For anyone who would happily nail their foreskin to a bench, listen to Paul Simon:

Extra points if you can make it to the end.

call me ishmael said...

Sorry, mr mike, blogger keeps freezing on me, I'll try again tomorrow.

call me ishmael said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
call me ishmael said...

I managed forty seconds and I don't know which was worse, the singer, the song or the crowd. Shame about Simon, he never used to put a foot wrong, a very superior performer and arranger. Looks like his musical intelligence leaked out through his nice new hair transplant, although I believe he was ever estranged from ethics, never able to tell right from wrong.

Caratacus said...

Good Grief, Mr. Mike, that was something of a find. And I used to think that Florence Foster Jenkins held the prize for self-deception when it came to musical talent. Mind you, I can always sense her presence when I listen to the "Queen of the Night" aria wherever it is performed ...

Woman on a Raft said...

Paul Simon karaoke, innit.

I had a duff night on Friday. First I went to see 'Night of the Iguana' (Tennessee Williams) and the iguana is only in it for three minutes, so that's Trades Descriptions Act as far as I am concerned.

Secondly, I caught part of the David Bowie prom on the radio on the drive back.

mongoose said...

Now that I have sorted the chromecasting business, I spent last evening sending Ry Cooder songs to the telly for the education of the Senior Mongosling. And Missippippi John Hurt, and some others, many from hereabouts passim too. The telly has decently passable speakers too. But I digress.

Why I should care about the political views of some penny-witted moron who managed to eat a wombat's foot one day on reality TV? That is beyond me. And who gives a fuck what Leonardo di Capprio thinks about anything? Seriously? His recent climate summit was held where? St Tropez. Of course it was, luv.

call me ishmael said...

It is great, isn't it, that bigscreen YouTubing, I sometimes just find something I don't know, Beethoven String Quartets, any early, sacred music, or anything, really, and let it run for hours. There are some great Cooder and Lindley full concerts, also some with Lindley and Jackson Brown. But there is also a treasure trove of early blues players. There is some original MJH footage, from the 'sixties although I still have some Vanguard LPs, bought when a child, which I would love to play, just one more time. Educationally - for the young Mongeese - I came across a new voice, new to me, anyway, Roy Bookbinder, a droll, adroit ragtime and blues picker, singer and proto-rapper, from whom I embellished the idea of the Great Folk Music Scare; he was a paying student of Reverend Gary Davies and he plays in an easy, almost throwaway style which he makes look simple, he's kind of an irreverend Gary Davies a faux country boy adrift in the city, he's about ninety but still going strong.

Yeah, Lenny de Caprio. There was a time when Light Entertainment knew its place, it was just a diversion from toil; somehow, in our time, it is become Art, Politics, Philosphy, Religion and Charity, when, in fact, to all of these things, it is antithetical and ruinous.

Come the Revolution we must hang Geldof, upside down, outside the London Palladium, to be spat upon by the mod, like the Mussolini he really is. When I die, mr mongoose, should that happen, there will be found on my heart the axion, There is NO business like showbusiness.

call me ishmael said...

I saw a bit of something Bowie-ish, mrs woar, the ubiquitous and pompous Rick Wakeman and others, dissecting Bowie's craft and there were momets when it all seemed quite plausible but they were just explanations of interesting chord changes; whatever the piano line, Life On Mars is a piece of nonsense expertly marketed to hysterical children and arty types. He was the Danny la Rue of his generation, wasn't he, Bowie, and servant of your own, memorable, Grooming of the Nation, an agent of what you observe, cautiously, in your remarks about the conspiracy against the heteronormative, the mutation of male hegemony, so that it can now fuck itself whilst deriding and relegating women.

For all the screeching furore about Bowie's ouevre I believe it to be, in truth, nothing to do with freedom but selfish and malign. Narcissism as Art, it's a Godawful, sad affair.

PS you might try mr richard's link to Milo Y; he's like a male Camille Paglie, only prettier and more trenchant.

call me ishmael said...

He has been, Simon, a polished composer, arranger and producer, king caratacus, of at least a couple of very superior middle of the road pop albums,BOTW and Gracelands, playing largely to White America'a bogus, hypocritical concerned and compassionate consumers. Mafia Frank Sinatra only sang on his American Songbook, Simon did everything, and is by far a greater artist, for what that's worth.

I have never, however, understood his need to plagiarise. In the nineteen-sixties British folk music scare, Martin Carthy freely taught Simon the old English folk tune, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme, which subsequently appeared as an original Simon composition; I thought it repugnant then and I still do. Joseph Shabalal and Ladysmith Black Mambazo are grateful for the recognition brought to them by their collaboration in Gracelands, but others are enraged by Simon's recycling of their licks and riffs; regularly one reads of younger musicians claiming that whilst he was "hanging-out" with them, Simon stole their shit and then, when they complained, invited them to sue Sony, his record label. I dunno, it all seems a bit grubby, to me.

His dreadful performance at the DNC is emblematic of his showbusiness generation, the song was too hard for him but he tried to vamp it, the band was coarse and inept, the cause counterfeit and the audience sentimental and complicit in sham. Emblematic, too, of she whom he would have us obey. The Boxer'll never sound the same.

Alphons said...

I suppose many of the world "leading pop stars" were/are like the politicians.....full of their own importance and bovine excrement.

Inmate said...

Hello darkness my old friend, Simon knew what he wanted to say, but his voice, as you report Mr. I, wasn't up to it; however I think these guys understand the meanings and know how it should be sang.
Fucknose what the video is about.

call me ishmael said...

It could have stayed in the opening timbre throughout, for me, mr inmate, and not grown so operatic but it is interesting. I believe that the Simon original was just a tricksy vocal/guitar Garfunkelism but Like A Rolling Stone's producer, Tom Wilson, ladled-over the electric instruments. I have never iked it, TSOS but appreciated his more mature pop stuff, Still Crazy, Fifty Ways, American Tune, Hearts'n'Bones and Homeless and, among the aerly stuff, The boxer entranced me; like so many of our Acclaimed, Paul Simon is eclipsed by a few bars of Pallestrina or Byrd, mr bungalow bill's proper sounds of silence.