Begins with the ideology of a solution to a problem but untill then it is war, and it is in such trying times you realise that ideology doesn't even matter in war.



A song that provokes a sense of awareness to others outside the distracting actions of life, asking do you have the love to help others?

La nuit dormait dans son verseau,
Les chèvres buvaient au rio,
Nous allions au hasard
Et nous vivions encore plus forts
Malgré le frette et les barbares.

Nous savions qu'un jour ils viendraient
À grands coups d'axes, à coup de taxes
Nous traverser le corps de bord en bord,
Nous les derniers humains de la terre.

Le vieux Achille a dit:
«À soir c'est un peu trop tranquille.
Amis, laissez-moi faire le guet.
Allez! Dormez en paix!»

Ce n'est pas le bruit du tonnerre
Ni la rumeur de la rivière
Mais le galop
De milliers de chevaux en course
Dans l'œil du guetteur.
Et tout ce monde sous la toile
Qui dort dans la profondeur:
«Réveillez-vous!
V'là les Yankees, v'là les Yankees,
Easy come, Wisigoths,
V'là les Gringos!»

Ils traversèrent la clairière
Et disposèrent leurs jouets de fer.
L'un d'entr'eux loadé de guns
S'avance et pogne
Le mégaphone.

«Nous venons de la part du Big Control,
Son laser vibre dans le pôle,
Nous avons tout tout tout conquis
Jusqu'à la glace des galaxies.
Le président m'a commandé
De pacifier le monde entier.
Nous venons en amis.
Maintenant assez de discussion
Et signez-moi la reddition
Car bien avant la nuit
Nous regagnons la Virginie!»

V'là les Yankees, v'là les Yankees
Easy come, Wisigoths
V'là les Gringos!

«Alors je compte jusqu'à trois
Et toutes vos filles pour nos soldats.
Le grain, le chien et l'uranium,
L'opium et le chant de l'ancien,
Tout désormais nous appartient,
Et pour que tous aient bien compris
Je compterai deux fois
Et pour les news de la CNN:
Tell me my friend
Qui est le chef ici?
Et qu'il se lève!»

Et le soleil se leva.

Hey Gringo! Escucha me, Gringo!
Nous avons traversé des continents,
Des océans sans fin
Sur des radeaux tressés de rêves
Et nous voici devant vivants,
Fils de soleil éblouissant
La vie dans le reflet d'un glaive.

America! America!
Ton dragon fou s'ennuie,
Amène-le que je l'achève.
Caligula, ses légionnaires,
Ton président, ses millionnaires,
Sont pendus au bout de nos lèvres.
Gringo! t'auras rien de nous.
De ma mémoire de titan,
Mémoire de 'tit enfant:
Ça fait longtemps que je t'attends.
Gringo! Viens-t'en!
Viens-t'en!
Que Dieu te blesse !

La nuit dormait dans son verseau,
Les chèvres buvaient au rio,
Nous allions au hasard
Et nous vivions encore plus forts
Malgré le frette et les barbares.

Georges Brassens was never a believer ; he lambasted priests for a living, and used gods in his verses “only for poetic reasons”. Yet he could recognize as his own the intense compassion expressed in Francis Jammes’ poem La Prière (The Prayer).

By the little boy who dies by his mother
While other children play in the courtyard
And by the wounded bird who doesn't know how
Its wing suddenly bleeds and falls from the sky
By thirst and hunger, fever and delirium
Hail to you, Mary

By the children beaten by the drunk returning home
By the donkey who gets kicked in the belly
And by the humiliation of innocents punished
By the virgin sold and undressed
By the son whose mother has been insulted
Hail to you, Mary

By the old woman who stumbles under too much weight
Exclaiming "My God!"
By the unfortunate ones whose arms
Couldn't ever repose on human love
Like the cross of the Son on Simon of Cyrene
By the horse fallen under the chariot it drags
Hail to you, Mary

By the four horizons that crucify the world
By all those whose flesh is torn or dies
By those who are without feet, those without hands
By the sick who’s operated on and moans
And by the just put among the ranks of killers
Hail to you, Mary

By the mother learning that her son is healed
By the bird calling the fallen bird back to the nest
By the thirsty grass that welcomes the rain
By the lost kiss, by love returned
And by the beggar who finds the change he'd lost
Hail to you, Mary

'River of Dreams' - Billy Joel
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSq4B_zHqPM

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
From the mountains of faith
To the river so deep

I must be looking for something
Something sacred I lost
But the river is wide
And it's too hard to cross

Even though I know the river is wide
I walk down every evening and I stand on the shore
I try to cross to the opposite side
So I can finally find what I've been looking for

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the valley of fear
To a river so deep

I've been searching for something
Taken out of my soul
Something I'd never lose
Something somebody stole

I don't know why I go walking at night
But now I'm tired and I don't want to walk anymore
I hope it doesn't take the rest of my life
Until I find what it is I've been looking for

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the jungle of doubt
To the river so deep

I know I'm searching for something
Something so undefined
That it can only be seen
By the eyes of the blind
In the middle of the night

I go walkin' in the, in the middle of the
I go walkin' in the, in the middle of the
I go walkin' in the, in the middle of the
I go walkin' in the, in the middle of the

I'm not sure about a life after this
God knows I've never been a spiritual man
Baptized by the fire, I wade into the river
That is running to the promised land

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the desert of the truth
To the river so deep

We all end in the ocean
We all start in the streams
We're all carried along
By the river of dreams
In the middle of the night

Georges Brassens was never a believer ; he lambasted priests for a living, and used gods in his verses “only for poetic reasons”. — Olivier5

Thanks for the introduction to Brassens. From wiki:
'His songs often decry hypocrisy and self-righteousness in the conservative French society of the time, especially among the religious, the well-to-do, and those in law enforcement. The criticism is often indirect, focusing on the good deeds or innocence of others in contrast. His elegant use of florid language and dark humor, along with bouncy rhythms, often give a rather jocular feel to even the grimmest lyrics.'

Always learning about just how much I don't know...
I had to smile at this:
'Perché filosofare quando si può cantare?'
from: http://projectbrassens.org/index.php

A brilliant site with menu of songs...
I found his song 'Jeanne' (1962) there, with Youtube and parallel translations. His tribute to a special friend:

From wiki: ''Once put up at Jeanne Planche's, Georges had to stay hidden for five months, waiting for the war to come to an end. He continued writing poems and songs. He composed using as his only instrument a small piece of furniture that he called "my drum" on which he beat out the rhythm.'

http://projectbrassens.org/Jeanne_en.php

Most welcome, and thanks for La Jeanne which I didn't know. Brassens was one of a kind, a UFO from some lyrically anarchist planet.

After praying Mary, let's give his due to the lord of this world.

http://projectbrassens.org/index.php — Amity

I found this translation of The Spanking, pretty mischievous:


The widow and the orphan, what could be more moving?
An old school friend of mine died leaving no children
But an amazing spouse behind.
I went to pay a visit to the desperate woman.
And then, having no plans for the evening,
I stayed to keep her company in the chapel.

To contain her tears, to solace her grief,
I started to tease, to crack some jokes,
All remedies are good for healing a soul…
Soon, thanks to the quality of some of my gags,
The widow was laughing till one’s side ache, thanks God !
We had quite of a good laugh.

My pipe was poking out of my jacket.
Pleasantly, she encouraged me : « Fill it up,
Let no moral imperative stop you,
If my poor husband hated tobacco,
Smoking does no longer bother him !
But where the heck did I put my cigarette box ? »

At midnight, with the sweet voice of a seraphim,
She asked me if I was hungry.
« Would it make him come back to life, she said,
If we stretched pity till starvation ?
What would you think of a frugal collation? »
And we had a small candle-light dinner.

« Look how beautiful he is !
Wouldn’t you say he’s sleeping ?
He would be the last one to blame me
If I sank my sorrow in a flow of champagne. »
After having emptied the second magnum,
The widow was quite flushed, I can tell you !
And her spirit started wandering around…

« My God, what will it be of us ! »
Sighted she, sitting on my lap.
And then, after having glued her lips on mine,
« Now I am finally reassured, she said, I feared
That under your saucisson-like mustache,
You'd be coquettishly hiding a harelip… »

My mustache like a saucisson, can you imagine ?
This comparison deserved a spank.
Rolling the insolent up with no sign of kindness,
Conscious of performing without a doubt a duty,
But closing my eyes to avoid seeing too much,
Smack! I lowered on her a vengeful hand.

« Ahi! you've cracked my bottom in two! »
Cried she, and I lowered my front, pitiful,
Worried that I had hit too harshly.
But I learnt later, and was quite relieved,
That this state of affairs had been there a long time :
Liar ! the crack was congenital.

When I raised my hand for the second time,
My spirit weakened, I lost faith,
Especially due to her inquiring, the Jezebel :
« Did you notice I had a nice ass ?»
And my vindictive hand fell back, vanquished
And the third blow was only a caress…

Ooh la la :fire:

I found this translation of The Spanking, pretty mischievous: — Olivier5

Love that you went looking for a spanking :naughty:
Em...I mean 'The Spanking', of course.
Bet there's more where that comes from...
Erm...I mean Brassens songs, of course.

There must be
'Something in the Water' - Poke LaFarge

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXzEVLSoVqw

Youtube algorithms brought up those two guys. It's like inspired country music, or seriously deep folk music. Listening so far, not going into the lyrics yet.

Your day breaks, your mind aches
You find that all the words of kindness linger on
When she no longer needs you

She wakes up, she makes up
She takes her time and doesn't feel she has to hurry
She no longer needs you

And in her eyes you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years

You want her, you need her
And yet you don't believe her when she says her love is dead
You think she needs you

And in her eyes you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years

You stay home, she goes out
She says that long ago she knew someone but now he's gone
She doesn't need him

Your day breaks, your mind aches
There will be time when all the things she said will fill your head
You won't forget her

And in her eyes you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years

"For No One" (2:32)
It's Like This, 2000
writers Lennon-McCartney, 1966
performer Rickie Lee Jones

(Happy 79th, Macca!)

Thanks to @180 Proof for this celebration of Joni Mitchell's 'Blue' :
https://thephilosophyforum.com/discussion/comment/554883

More here :
https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2021/jun/22/joni-mitchell-blue-my-favourite-song-james-taylor-carole-king-graham-nash-david-crosby-kt-tunstall-birdy

Joni Mitchell’s Blue: my favourite song – by James Taylor, Carole King, Graham Nash, David Crosby and more.
As the legendary album turns 50, the musicians it inspired – and those who inspired it – tell us which track means the most to them and why — Interviews by Dave Simpson

TBH: My ears are more attuned to Carole King and her 'Tapestry' (1971).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWbHG5iGZEA

:up: I needed to listen to this one, it'd been too long ... :cool:

I hadn't heard of/it before. I only knew of the more commercial songs. So will take time at some point to listen to the whole album.
Like many, I am attracted to 'blue' and so clicked on the 'Blue' track :cool:
Care to do like those interviewed ?
What track would you say is most meaningful to you and why?

Decades ago, I vaguely recall a boozy writer friend said to me "If you want to write from a 'woman's point of view' with emotional truth, stay away from Joni Mitchell. She's raw, man, like a crazy ex you dumped who just uses you now for sex while you're lying to yourself that you're just using her." It must've only been days later I borrowed a pristine vinyl copy of Blue from I can't recall whom now (probably an ex-gf who was still 'talking' to me) because at that time I was blocked, unable to find my female protagonist's voice in the middle of a shitty novel I was scribbling. Well, my writer buddy was (mostly) right but, anyway, Blue sold me for life on Joni's music – she's in my singer-songwriter's pantheon next to Nina, Billie, Aretha, Janis & Rickie Lee – and eventually exorcized my bs macho-ambition to 'find my female voice' (or write women characters like a woman writer). Ladies of the Canyon & Mingus round-out three of my favorite Joni Mitchell albums along with Blue. Most of her music rewards re-listening again and again.

As for Blue, my favorite song is (still)



Why? I've felt this ...

at that time I was blocked, unable to find my female protagonist's voice in the middle of a shitty novel I was scribbling...eventually exorcized my bs macho-ambition to 'find my female voice' (or write women characters like a woman writer) — 180 Proof

My God. How fckn fascinating is your own story. Why would it be bs macho to try and find the female point of view or voice ? Have you an example of your writing you would care to share ?

As for Blue, my favorite song is (still)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=G5084WbyZM8
Why? I've felt this ... — 180 Proof

Beautiful :sparkle:
'I want to wreck my stockings in some jukebox dive'.
Hah. Rip the damned things orf, I say.
And burn the bra :fire:
What bra ?

'All I Want' - Joni Mitchell

I am on a lonely road and
I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling
Looking for something, what can it be
Oh I hate you some, I hate you some, I love you some
Oh I love you when I forget about me
I wanna be strong I wanna laugh along
I wanna belong to the living
Alive, alive, I want to get up and jive
I want to wreck my stockings in some jukebox dive
Do you want, do you want, do you wanna dance with me baby
Do you wanna take a chance on
Maybe finding some sweet romance with me baby, well come on

All I really really want our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you too
All I really really want our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you
I wanna talk to you, I wanna shampoo you
I wanna renew you again and again
Applause, applause, life is our cause
When I think of your kisses my mind see-saws
Do you see, do you see, do you see how you hurt me baby
So I hurt you too
Then we both get so blue

I am on a lonely road and I am traveling
Looking for the key to set me free
Oh the jealousy
The greed is the unraveling it's the unraveling
And it undoes all the joy that could be
I wanna have fun, I wanna shine like the sun
I wanna be the one that you want to see
I wanna knit you a sweater
Wanna write you a love letter
I wanna make you feel better, I wanna
Make you feel free
Hm hm hm, hm
Wanna make you feel all free
All I wanna make you feel free

Songwriters: Mitchell Joni
For non-commercial use only.
Data from: Musixmatch

My God. How fckn fascinating is your own story. Why would it be bs macho to try and find the female point of view or voice ? Have you an example of your writing you would care to share ? — Amity

Mein Gott is right! :yikes: :sweat:

Maybe I'll drop some old scribbles in a PM when I get off the road; I should be home by the weekend. Like every frustrated and failed scribbler, I've dumpster-loads of manuscript drafts and story fragments of which I'm mostly ashamed how hackneyed and inelegant they always seem. And by that "bs macho-ambition" I meant being fake, inauthentic: my voice is whatever it is, please no fucking ventriloquism to gag the muses with: writers of my generation write from the throat and not their balls like the generations before us – like James Baldwin and Henry Miller, Toni Morrison and Cormac McCarthy, Ursula LeGuin and Octavia Butler. Anyway, I'll really try to find something to share, Amity, but not publicly (please) if that's alright with you. Now if TPF would host an annual "Short Story Contest" like they used to on the old PF (@Baden), I'd be keen to conjure up some gumbo for the occasion. :wink:

As for my own story, well, I've had "my kicks" and "the whole shithouse" hasn't gone up "in flames" yet. Not yet. Got scars and some tire-tracks across my back to show for it. Mid-fifties now, somewhat recovered (or mostly on the good side of various recoveries); a lot of my story (sans mythistory) can be read between the lines across a variety posts and even my profile page. All the rest – autobiographical errata – is just dead skin and scabs.

I am on a lonely road
and I am traveling
Looking for the key
to set me free — All I Want

:death: :flower:

Who, me?

Anyway, I'll really try to find something to share, Amity, but not publicly (please) if that's alright with you. Now if TPF would host an annual "Short Story Contest" like they used to on the old PF (@Banno), I'd be keen to conjure up some gumbo for the occasion. :wink: — 180 Proof

Of course. I look forward to that, thanks.

a lot of my story (sans mythistory) can be read between the lines across a variety posts and even my profile page. All the rest – autobiographical errata – is just dead skin and scabs. — 180 Proof

Yes, that is how I have come to know many posters here. I prefer to disclose parts of me in that 'organic' way too. I haven't written a profile. 'Dead skin and scabs' - we renew. Every day, in every way...

Re: the creative short story, someone mentioned that just about when I first started here and I thought it it a wonderful idea.
It was discussed - but nothing came of it.
Just another 'potential'...lost along the way, I guess...

Perhaps another nudge might work :wink:
It might be another key to set us free.

Whoops, I mean to write @Baden.

:up:

How deeply insulting.

I'm sure @Baden thinks so. :smirk:

One fine day I'll get you to swap identifies with me and you can have the pleasure of being the woke stalinist anti-feminist monster that cleans the dunnies round here.



We should. Maybe I'll do a poll on the idea. Cheers for the reminder anyhow. :up:

Re: the creative short story, someone mentioned that just about when I first started here and I thought it it a wonderful idea.
It was discussed - but nothing came of it.
Just another 'potential'...lost along the way, I guess... — Amity

It was 2 years ago !!
https://thephilosophyforum.com/discussion/comment/244214

We should. Maybe I'll do a poll on the idea. Cheers for the reminder anyhow. :up: — Baden

Yay. Then again, maybe...maybe not...
Should we pick off alternate petals :flower:

I either do things in 2 hours or 2 years. Just that kinda guy. :wink:

I either do things in 2 hours or 2 years. Just that kinda guy — Baden

:kiss: You're a sweet-talking guy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpFotOi3hDs

Nothing like pacing yourself...I did hear on the grapevine...it's usually about 20 minutes or so.

:rofl:

I had the mop and bucket for Wikipedia for a year or so. I've no desire to repeat that performance.

I had the mop and bucket for Wikipedia for a year or so. I've no desire to repeat that performance. — Banno

Is there a song out there which would express and heal this deep trauma ?
' There's a hole in my bucket' :nerd:

It has begun, there's nothing in the world to stop it now
It's in control, we might as well just try to stop the wind

So give up, give in, you lose
Love will always win, start surrendering
Stop resisting

Nothin' you can do about it, it's too strong to be denied
Nothin' you can do about it, relax, enjoy the ride

Destiny...we are what fate intended us to be
Can't you see we're all a part of some eternal plan

So give up, give in, you lose
Love will always win, start surrendering
Stop resisting

Nothin' you can do about it, it's too strong to be denied
Nothin' you can do about it, relax, enjoy the ride

Don't you try to understand it, leave it as a mystery
It's bigger than the both of us, we're each other's history

Nothin' you can do about it, it's too strong to be denied
Nothin' you can do about it, relax, enjoy the ride

This song was also covered on the great Manhattan Transfer album, Extensions.

Bonus points if you recognise the bass player.