Monday, December 7, 2020

GOING TO CHURCH...THE LEGEND OF THE RYMAN

Going to Church:- The Legend of the Ryman Auditorium

On Oct 2nd 1954, a young artist performed his one and only time at the hallowed venue, after singing
a terrible version of "Blue Moon of Kentucky" he was told by the Opry talent manager he would never perform here again and that he should go back to his day job. Next week that same performer signed on to do 52 Saturday nights at the Louisiana Hayride, thus started the career of one Elvis Presley.
I guess you don't always get it right!!

In my chase to learn about Americana, Hollywood, and Music there are but a handful of bucket list venue's that top the heap. This is the story ...nay, legend of my relationship with one such place, now on the National Register of Historic landmarks as designated January 3rd 2001.

This is "The Ryman Auditorium".  


You know that question people always ask you, who would you like to meet from History dead or alive and have dinner with, well instead I've always had the notion that during the course of my life I would like to see concerts or shows at classic venues that are haunted with the talents of the past, my list sequestered deeply into the recess of my mind, I mean how could this kid from Bolton ever visit The Hollywood Bowl, or be live at the Greek, or listen to WSM at The Grand Ole Opry??

Life has a way of turning tricks and thinking I may have piqued at Wembley Stadium (the real one before they knocked it down to build something much less than its former self) on July 13th 1985.

 ....The summer of 1990 finds me walking past a very glamorously run down Victorian era brick building, in an as yet non-gentrified, highly debatable, lower end of Broadway in Nashville TN.
The musical ghosts of those hallowed halls, still hovering behind the red brick, deserted and run down now, but as if time travel were possible, the thoughts stream fast as I imagine myself sitting on one of the wooden pews, how many stories they could tell me, Caruso singing here in 1919, Helen Keller's lecture  was the first sell out of the building in 1913, or Harry Houdini performing in 1923, never mind the likes of Johnny Cash in 56 or Patsy Cline in 60 along with the magical list of Little Jimmy Dickens, Bob Hope, Hank Williams or Minnie pearl in 64....

Its too late, what was once the thriving cultural center of Nashville is now left to the fates of time, I walk past trying to sneak a peak and am left to wonder, just wonder....



Strong people and strong buildings survive, so here I am almost 30 years later, and the storied building is once again the thriving centerpiece Thomas Ryman always intended it to be, when he opened it as the Union Gospel Tabernacle in 1892 for his friend Evangelist Sam Jones...Ryman died in 1904 and his memorial service was held at the tabernacle, during the service Jones proposed renaming the building in honor of his friend, and the Ryman Auditorium was born, sadly just two years later Jones himself passed away.

The building designed as a place of worship carried on this way until in need of funds, Widow Lula Naff started leasing and booking events to fill her time, she became the buildings manager in 1920

Naff had a knack of getting world renown entertainers to perform here, despite Jim Crow laws, audiences were always integrated despite the signs saying it shouldn't be, a pioneer in her time she retired in 1955 and passed away in 1960.


Why is this hallowed ground? ...The list of events and performers that have tripped the light fantastic and their spirits that still swirl are brought all that much closer to me as I cross the threshold for the first time.
I am deliberately early, walking up the central red velvet stairwell it dawns on me how it hasn't changed, creaking wood banisters,  solid wood pews , stained glass windows, walking to the center I look down onto the stage, its simple, the swooped curtain ready to be drawn, an inkling of modern technology as I pop back to reality and see the TV screens advertising the coming events. It doesn't matter, I'm here.
Sitting for a while to take it in, the mind explodes with an overwhelming gratefulness to the people who fought so hard to keep this place and great music alive. The walls tell the stories with all the one off Hatch posters declaring who played here and each one signed, its the bedroom wall of my youth.
                                           Hatch Posters Ryman Walls            pic Benny Santini

Its a place you dream of playing, its a place you dream of visiting, to see a show, to walk the halls, to enter into the myth brought to life, the legend.
                               Maggie Rogers                                                   pic Benny Santini

With all the sincerity I can muster, it is...like going to church.

#bennysantiniproductions 
#grahamsataconcertagain

I've got Soul but I'm not a soldier

Check out the Ryman "Who's played Me?" Blog for a Historic list of the players





Wednesday, September 9, 2020

THE GREATEST LOVE SONG...

 The Greatest Love Song Ever Written...

Going to the Match by L.S.Lowry


"In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone..."

Between 3 pm and 515 pm on any given Saturday afternoon in Britain, men and women from all walks of life can be heard singing songs like this at the top of their limited vocal range, along the terraces of their favorite football stadium. I was no different, as a lad as I ran down Manchester Road on the way to the hallowed turf of Burnden Park to watch my beloved Bolton Wanderers.


I had no idea the impact classic melodies of the terraces would have on me over the years, Yes "You'll Never Walk Alone" at Liverpool, You will be " Forever Blowing Bubbles" at West Ham but sung with the most vivacity in later years is the tune "Grace" sung to this very day by every Celtic fan the

world over ... 

"Oh Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger..." In its rawness and sung by thousands I struggled to understand the lyrics but was aware of the goosebumps crawling up the back of my neck...

What is this Song? Whats it all about? Wheres it from?  

All thoughts lay quite dormant until prodded to life once again during a new playlist search on the old Amazon Music.  I Love " The Fields of Athenry", "Green fields of France" and Christy Dignam's version of "The Band Played Waltzing Matilda" so naturally thought what else can I plug in here...

The story that unfolds in this revived epic, is so wistfully and beautifully told....  The song "Grace" written by brothers Frank and Sean O'Meara in 1985 tells the tragic, very true tale, packed with heart wrenching emotion in the melody, of Grace Gifford who married her fiance, rebel leader and poet Joseph Mary Plunkett, during the Easter uprising of 1916. 



They married in the harshness, the austere chapel of Dublin's notorious Kilmainham Gaol. 



Plunkett was arrested for his part as one of the seven signatories of the proclamation for a free Ireland from the Tyranny of the English on the Easter of 1916. Plunket was an educated man, of good stock, was a journalist and poet, and was engaged to Grace and set to be married on Easter Sunday 23rd April 1916 at the local church of St Stephens Green, and here is just another reason why we don't demolish,vandalize or eliminate Historical landmarks or stories, because as the story follows fate intervened...

Always interested in the Irish Republican Brotherhood and anything connected with Irish Nationalism, he told Grace that something had come up and he must postpone their date at the alter. The Rising ended up taking place on Monday the 24th not the 23rd as planned. Plunkett in all his avante-guard splendor showed up at the GPO in white silk scarf, brandishing a Saber alongside Michael Collins and held the GPO for 5 days. While at the GPO standoff it was discovered he was sick with TB and needed to lie down on a mattress, the story so goes that James Connolly's son asked his father who the man was lying down on a mattress in the middle of a revolution, the famous quote came back " That's Joe Plunkett he has more courage in his little finger than all the other leaders combined"

Now, Saturday April 29th Joseph sat down to pen a letter to Grace not knowing it would be his final transcript, later that day he was captured at the surrender and sentenced to death for his part in the Rising.

So here we are at the Pathos, gut wrenching aspect of their story, Grace partitioned with success to marry her beloved ....and on May 3rd 1916 in that bleak chapel of Kilmaiham Gaol , in a cold 15 minute ceremony, with no family present, only British soldiers with bayonets fixed and at the ready , hand cuffed and not allowed to touch each other or speak to each other, Father Eugene McCarthy read them their vows.

Just seven hours later on May 4th Joseph Plunkett was shot by firing squad.


As we gather in the chapel here in old Kilmainham Gaol
I think about these past few weeks, oh will they say we've failed?
From our school days they have told us we must yearn for liberty
Yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here with me 

Oh Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye

Now I know it's hard for you, my love, to ever understand
The love I bear for these brave men, my love for this dear land
But when Pádhraic called me to his side down in the GPO
I had to leave my own sick bed, to him I had to go

Oh, Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye

Now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too
On this May morn as I walk out, my thoughts will be of you
And I'll write some words upon the wall so everyone will know
I love so much that I could see his blood upon the rose

Oh, Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye
No there won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye

https://youtu.be/IxIrmWfKJuQ

Grace took up Josephs cause and spent time in Kilmainham Gaol herself in 1923, but she never re married and died alone on Dec 13th 1955.


When I think now of Stevie Knicks "Has Anyone Ever Written Anything For You" It would be hard to top what the O'Meara's did .....and I dare you to listen and not fight back tears... it is indeed the greatest love song ever written....

Grace Gifford

Originally sung by Jim McCann of the Dubliners fame he had the song at the top of the Irish charts for 36 weeks. Recently Rod Stewart put it on his 2018 album "Blood Red Roses" 






The Dark Way

Rougher than Death the road I choose
Yet shall my feet not walk astray,
Though dark, my way I shall not lose
For this way is the darkest way. 

Now I have chosen in the dark
The desolate way to walk alone
Yet strive to keep alive one spark
Of your known grace and grace unknown

Poem by Joseph Mary Plunkett







Give a listen and comment let me know what you think...

#bennysantiniproductions 

#grahamsataconcertagain

I've got soul but i'm not a soldier.....



Sunday, May 3, 2020

I WANNA BE A HERO ( MAYBE JUST FOR ONE DAY)

I WANNA BE A HERO, MAYBE JUST FOR ONE DAY...


Lately it would seam the word hero is being bandied around quite liberally, and honestly I don't disagree with who its being showered upon, I mean come on shower the people you love with love and all that, but, it has gotten to me a little, and as I sit, still swimming and marveling in the thing that truly gets you through the repetitiveness of "shelter -in-place" or "#stayhome" , the world of "Magical Mystery Tours" aligning with the "Spiders from Mars", and yes Gustav Holst "Planet Suite" the melancholy mood enhancements, yet sheer transportation thrills of music.

So as my turntable spun the next disc of wonderment and escapism, It got to me a little as I chewed on The Beautiful Souths lyrics by Paul Heaton...

"I've been scruff bag, dirt bag, always someones binbag
But never been bono or sting
However I dressed never really impressed
So they never got to hear a damn thing
I've been bad man sad man certified mad
But never 007 or saint
Trendsetter go getter international jet setter
Are just a few things that I ain't"

Trendsetter, Go getter International jet setter ...
Hmmm, i'm also not a Nurse, Bin Man, Grocery Store Clerk, Farmer, Truck Driver, Scientist, Doctor, NHS worker, Janitor, Food Handler, School Counselor, Bus Driver, Foster Care worker, Non Profit staffer, Nursing Home attendant, Police man, Security Guard, News Reporter, Fireman, Ambulance Driver.......

You see its easy to hear all this shoved down your throat and not for the lack of wanting to be grateful, but i also, have up heaved my life and am currently working more than 10-12 hours a day in a Work From Home environment, to keep afloat a family that has also suffered layoff, furlough and dried up business revenue, so yeah David Bowie had it right and  I also wanna be a Hero, maybe just for one day...
Is that so wrong? 

I sing the song as well for every one of my fellow Americans and well yes all you World denizens out there that are struggling to make life as normal as can be expected. 
To those that have joined the unemployment lines, I salute you, 
For those in trades such as mine, I salute you, that we have to work twice if not three times as hard to produce less than half of what we used to do, in order to bring home less than half of what we used to, that has to spread round three times more than it used to, are we not ourselves instead of "Holding out for a Hero" as Bonnie Tyler sang, maybe in our own selves The Hero that comes along, as Mariah sang. 

We are still searching for that patriarchal or maternal dominance we once used to feel when our families looked up to us as the unwritten hero's we once were.

You know who you are, you're just like me, yes there's time now to play but we mustn't connect, there's now time to talk, but only through screens, there's now time to travel, but that's not allowed, you can go to the beach, but don't dare sit down....

Profit, power and control will one day again resume control, I understand this, its how the world works...but for now then dear Celebrity and Politician, we are not all in the same boat or prison as you like to post, your prisons seam to have swimming pools, and movie theaters, and unlimited time to watch Netflix or play video games, and order from the over inflated delivery companies like Door Dash or Uber eats, blend exquisite cocktails and create Tik Toks...

I fear i may not be a hero, as i don't wear spandex, leap tall buildings, fight crime, or have a butler....
I choose to dedicate this to my  fellow newly derogatorily labelled "non essential", personnel.

You, yes you, Retail Store Worker, Teacher, Waitress, Furniture salesperson, Insurance broker, Barman, Personal Trainer, Gym Worker, Gardner, Realtor, Florist, Hairdresser, Spa Worker, Museum Worker, Admin Worker, Disneyland Employee, Movie Theater Worker, Concert Hall Worker, Landscaper, Caterer, Barista, Manufacturer, Cosmetologist......

You are the ones that have been punched in the gut and you keep bouncing back, you never give up and never surrender ( Thanks Winston) it is the realization that like me, you all are Hero's of a different kind, and yes we can be hero's just for one day, or we can claim our blue collar mantel, our work your ass off attitudes and be true "Working Class Hero's"

As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty-odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they're telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me


#bennysantiniproductions
#grahamsataconcertagain


I've got Soul but I'm not a soldier

Saturday, April 25, 2020

THE GRAND ILLUSION

THE GRAND ILLUSION.



Welcome to The Grand Illusion
Come on in and see whats happening
Pay the price, get your tickets for the show
The stage is set, the band starts playing
Suddenly your heart is pounding
Wishing secretly you were a star....




As I write a few notes down on paper, and try to start the next missive, I really don't know what the next inspiring spark will be, its elusive, unpredictable, fickle even.
The journey of memories reside nonchalantly waiting to be unpacked.

America was always the ideal, the New World, a place that seamed so far off, a place only found in the movies......I knew a kid once who went to Disneyland, I mean that was it, I could maybe talk to someone who had been there once.
Joan Armatrading sang about "Calling all the way from America" Neil Diamond sang about "Coming to America", Bruce was "Born in the USA"....

It was a place of dreams and well places that only resided in song, I wondered if I really would ever "Stand on the Corner in Winslow Arizona"( see me to the left doing my best David Letterman impression and actually standing on a corner in ... well yes you guessed it Winslow Arizona) or indeed "fly from Phoenix Arizona all the way to Tacoma" even experience as previously written about that " Rocky Mountain High"
I've taken music with me on this incredible life journey, I even remember waiting in a small bus station in the early 80's down town Tel Aviv, ready to go explore some far flung corner, the best companion I had then for the adventure was the Talking Heads Little Creatures Album on loop in my Walkman, was I really on that Road to nowhere,

Very early on Rich Mullins had a song called "Here in America", which I was enamored with and was also encouraged by, I mean that the God of Israel truly does love me here in America, and he's provided ways and means to experience this amazing country, and to this day drawn in by the lyrics of the song, I still crave the sights and sounds of the waves crashing off the coast of North New England.
And so as I sit in The Magnolia Theater in downtown El Cajon on a balmy Southern California evening in March 2020 (unknowingly, and unwittingly just moments from being told to stay home and live music as I have known it will cease to exist, the world stopped turning, and as we have found out in the last few weeks music did not die as the iconic song wisps,,,,stay tuned as rather this is for a different blog)  anyway, here waiting for Dennis DeYoung to wander on stage and take me through the Best of Times. It was there as I contemplated the upcoming lyrical bombardment of memories, that the elusive, "fickle spark" aforementioned came to the forefront.

How true were the words as we embarked upon this endeavor, close your eyes, pretend your 17 again, sat in your room on a Saturday afternoon, arriving back from your favorite record store and slide that magnificently grooved twelve inch spherical midnight black colored disc of wonder from its perfectly drawn and marketed sleeve, enticing you to simply unpack those memory banks and as the vinyl spins,the stylus crackles and reacts.... for the next 40  minutes or so there is no one else, no place else you would rather be, the absorption of the content inscribed into those modulated spiral grooves.

Dennis is a tall distinguished, grey haired gentleman, dressed in his finest, and well rock star sunglasses, but don't they all !! Effortlessly playing the entire length of the album with the promise of greatest hits to come, the night
sent that triggered spark of thanks, as I recalled not only the exceptional Styx moments, with the curtains parting for Paradise Theater, opened once more for that fleeting moment in time. But it was the shout out of gratitude to America herself, in the form of the song Miss America, not actually written by Dennis but by James Young that has given me this exceptional musical journey.

Well aren't you Miss America
Don't you Miss America
Won't you Miss America


Originally probably a some what misogynistic song about the Miss America beauty pageant, that has evolved and changed meaning, to the Miss America we live in, that place of musical dreams, from Laurel Canyons gift of The Eagles, and Joni Mitchell to Nashville's Ryman Auditorium trying out Elvis and giving us real Country and Western Music or lets not forget CBGB's in New York the club set to lay way to Country Blue Grass and Blues ( CBGB get it) instead laid waste to groups like Television, Ramones, Blondie and Patti Smith... I love America.

It was the robotic classic Styx that took me back there, and still fired that spark that said you're lucky mate, you get to dig in hit the road and experience this, also amazingly you just need to look round the corner and hit the Belly Up in San Diego or the Ace Hotel in LA....

Sweepingly familiar, Dennis danced and played to the crowd and we didn't seam to care that he used the same jokes he used 10-15 even 20 years ago, clearly no more the angry young man, with too  much time on his hands, more apt to coax us to come sail away with Loreli, and sing ballads Lady and Babe, to his wife also on stage of over 30 years.
At 73 trips around the sun he is still showing us the way and as kitsch as it seams to wrap the songs into the final paragraph, raising his Kilroy mask he makes that final statement we as fans chant back Kilroy was indeed ...Here.

Live music is for sure my guilty pleasure, I dedicate this as an ode to that moment dotted in time somewhere in the future that we again will gather in fearless surrender to the magical sounds from a stage, large or small, what does it matter.

#grahamsataconcertagain
#bennysantiniproductions



I've got soul but i'm not a soldier




Sunday, March 1, 2020

LYRICAL THOUGHT II

LYRICAL THOUGHT II


"Deep within the Heart of Nowhere", circa 1978, there was a certain scruffy Irishman that somehow spoke to me.

I was still in full discovery mode, you know the sort that has you trying to unscramble the lyrical belt from the St. Cleve Chronicle....the twists of Jethro Tull's fine flutist himself, magical mister Mephistopheles ( if ever there was a cat so clever) his own self, Ian Anderson .
I will understand then,as is so appropriately stated in the first few lines of the epic "Thick as a Brick" side one..." I really don't mind if you sit this one out"  you see how quickly it gets to me even today, usually just buzzing around the inside of my cranium, now I just want to type the titles of Jethro Tull songs all day long, I mean "Jeffrey goes to Leicester Square" "Skating away on the thin ice of the new day" or the veritable "Too
old to Rock n roll Too young to die" how could you not...
Unsurprisingly I was as fascinated back when with music and Lyrics as I am today, even in the late 60's and early 70's the more "words" the better.


Can you relate to the  "...Real imperial aerosol kid" of "Lamb lies Down on Broadway" infamy.... or wonder if the "Maples were right about the Oaks" in what on the face of it is a simple tune by Rush from their "Hemispheres" album, oh lets not go down the oppression path...

I know there are many other examples and many that followed later in my life , one that took me on a trek, on a cold December day in 1987, driving the winding roads of the Utopian British countryside, wearing thin through sideways rain as I stared at the misshapen images through raindrops on the windshield, the shops on Princess Street decked out in their blurred seasonal finest as I arrived for a two night stand with "Marillion" at The Edinburgh Playhouse.

Sometimes  moments and memories are best served on the home turf of a Band, and that little extra is given, absolutely the case as this "root-in too-tin cowboy", was grateful for those "lonely stretches of headlights" as I searched as a "wide boy" to "wear my own White Feather", lost voice and ears ringing, I wondered if I had hit the pinnacle in the "heart of Lothian" and my "Misplaced Childhood" was over...

So there I was in 1978 surrounded by the latest sounds of this tremendous era of rebellion and angst
through the ultimate vehicle of emotions, Late 70's in England was a great time to be young,  (sneaking home your own copy of "Never Mind The Bollocks" by the "Sex Pistols" and playing it in your bedroom seams very tame by today's standards !!)
Most certainly the unrequited feeling of being "in love with the girl on the Manchester Virgin Mega-store checkout desk"
The Freshies nailed it as they sang the lines, I mean c'mon there was no better promotion to being hip than having a Virgin bag hanging at your side crossing Market street to the Arndale Center on a Saturday afternoon in Manchester town center...


"She takes money 
She gives change
She sells records
And that's special"





(take  a listen   https://youtu.be/VvV465SHJBg  and a wander down memory lane, I can recite this song word for word even today, and it really does take me back to those halcyon days)

Yeah, there was Blondie, Elvis Costello, Buzzcocks, The Damned or XTC, but it was that scruffy Irishman that had me. Understandably looking back you realize these guys couldn't sing they just seamed to shout down the microphone and that bothered some folks...

I remember hearing "Mary of the 4th Form" for the first time and thought Hmm there's something here, ahead of my emotional time maybe!
But "Joeys on the street again" ...
" Look at the brick wall gravestone, where some kid has sprayed nobody could be bothered to rule here OK"
I always thought that I wanted to be Joey and get out of town. The song spoke of a time where it was hard to leave your blue collar surroundings, its hard to grab a hold of your self before sinking into the abyss of factory labor or unemployment, and what that looked like when you did leave, I will leave one day and folks will say I wonder what hes up to " someone said they had seen him, they were nearly always wrong, no one knew how much he had, where he'd gone or for how long".
I thought of this moment some 15 to 20 years later, when I heard I was missed at a college reunion, the only one not there as I was "In America or something" a romantic notion I dare say.

As their second album hit the charts "it was a Rat Trap Billy" and I had been caught, fortunate enough to see the "Boomtown Rats" play numerous times at Manchester Apollo or Dominion Theater London or the Empire in Liverpool, even at the Shobox in Seattle. There was one time along with a cluster of my closest chums, we had taken the very familiar route to Ardwick Green where we would see them on "The Fine Art of Surfacing Tour" The X'sand O's of the stage lights, "Someones looking at You" or "Diamond Smiles", but it was here for the first time, live, I heard the haunting lyrics about a girl in the USA who shot her school class mates because she "Didn't like Mondays"
Maybe a tear did roll down the face that evening, does that make me uncool... gee I hope so
It was merely 6 or so years later as I stool with 72 thousand of my closest friends that those lyrics again poignantly hit the sky with a clenched fist "...and the lesson today is how to die"
13th July 1985 was Live Aid, Bob Geldof's Opus and he deserved the roar, the children of Africa deserved that roar, the victims of Barbra Spencer's shooting deserved that roar, and if I am being totally honest, even as I screamed aloud myself  being in attendance, yeah maybe I deserved a bit of that roar...

On another equally grey British weekday, having landed at Piccadilly Station in Manchester, I trudged the very familiar fifteen minute walk to Ardwick Green once more. Times were changing, and the feeling crept over me that things would never be the same again, hunched over from the rain as I walked those final steps to the Apollo, I side stepped into the stale brick faced Aspley Cottage Pub for refreshment, fate plays tricks on me sometimes and it sure has its quirks, but sitting at the bar, unkempt, un-assuming and seemingly happy for that moment, in that instant every memory hitting my synapses at the same time, I couldn't gush, it wasn't that kind of moment, I wanted, no I needed to play it cool......thirty seconds to last a lifetime.

So as Vinyl makes its come back, I smile at times gone by, and think I must dig out that Autographed album..

#bennysantiniproductions #grahamsataconcertagain










I got soul but im not a soldier

Saturday, February 22, 2020

HUMAN OR DANCER ?

HUMAN OR DANCER ?





Long heralded as the front man for the resurgence of the New Wave movement at the beginning of the 2000's, the clean cut lead singer of The Killers, Mr Brandon Flowers has that certain ability to connect the dots on three important elements,
a) Catchy Tunes
b) Image
c) Thought provoking lyrics



The challenge laid down recently by my daughter Philly to provide insight into a song I had been recently tapping my two left feet to... as  a side note of influence and explanatory notion, while other recently hatched millennial's were seeing bland  Disney style shows like Britney, Hannah, or Hillary as Lizzie McGuire , she was front and center showing signs of incredible musical fortitude, chanting lyrics of distane about cheating girlfriends back at the band in frenzied motion

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibi
But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside


Inspired and ready to face the musical world head on, with her first Solo live Show being the Killers at WAMU Theater in Seattle 22nd April 2009.

Inspiration, destination or just lyrical thought in the times we live in, the question was posed as to what the song "Human" really addresses .

I enjoy a good crowd pleaser and have been privileged to have sung along with sometimes 100's or thousands be it Pressed up against the stage realizing that Lola was not what she seamed or  really wanting to take the weather with me at a Crowded House Show...
Human is one such song I have not had the chance to see done live unlike the aforementioned  Philly....
Though I reckon I could do justice to the opening lines....

I did my best to notice
When the call came down the line



So I closed my eyes for a moment, paced myself and played the song once more.
OK, so the obvious are we human or are we dancer, dancers do everything in Choreographic form, we as Human kind do our own thing...
Then there is the giving away of things that make us Human, the likes of Virtue, Grace and Romance...
Take these away and we become less Human, so interestingly i'm now seeing a pattern, the giving up of individualism and stepping in line, wow, in the times we are living in it becomes more and more relevant as the youth of today are being asked to give up freedoms in favor of Socialism, what a dangerously slippery slope..
I think Brandon is addressing the youth of now, to wake up and listen before they succumb to do everything they are told, saying goodbye to everything you know, wondering if you'll be home tonight, its even got that George Orwell vibe of believing you are being guided by some non spiritual force, ending up cold to each other and our surroundings but ending on our knees begging for what we used to know... though as older generations die off, there is a lot less history around and even as young as America is, the millennial's are being forced into line by technology even though they wont admit it, not being able to see over the tops of their i phones etc. I do realize how ironic this sounds as i hit this missive out over the blog-esphere... am i part of the problem or part of the solution, am i Human or am I dancer, ouch....

Having turned to the Man from Vegas, brought up as a devotee of the church of Jesus Christ of the latter day saints, i wondered in deed what Brandon Flowers was thinking as he wrote this and i was interested to find out i was not far off
Based on a Quote from Hunter S Thompson himself "We are raising a generation of dancers" implying that the youth of today are soft and easily swayed..

If you really examine history you'll see times were people have been swayed and bad things have happened, its a social commentary on things of the past and warning against a Dystopian future...

On the other hand its just a catchy Pop Song...

#bennysantiniproductions
#grahasataconcertagain
@notfromphilly @voicefromphilly



Saturday, February 8, 2020

LYRICAL THOUGHTS...

LYRICAL THOUGHTS.


Its hard to write down that lyric that hits you in the feels. You've either got it or... well you don't!
If I am being honest the cliche of they don't write them like they used to still prevails.
I found myself falling down the rabbit trail of Alice's wonderland fame, thinking about those missive's written in four four time and though the old adage is true that you "can't go home again" there are songs with lyrics so well crafted that you are often transported in time to a place with fond memories, or new discoveries, long lost loves or yes just simply going back home, of course it takes that right voice to communicate it, the voice that accesses the sensory overload...
I never had the pleasure of seeing Glen Campbell live, having the opportunity later in life, i couldn't
pull the trigger as he started to fade with Alzheimer's.
The legacy of who he played for and how he sang those songs still makes me sit up and listen....

It's knowing that your door is always open
And that your path is free to walk
That makes me tend leave my sleeping bag rolled up
And stashed behind your couch
And it's knowing I'm not shackled by forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains dried upon some line
That keeps you in back roads by the rivers of my memory
Keeps you ever gentle on my mind


Keeps you in back roads by the rivers of my memory, what a line...

The one two punch of Jimmy Webb's songs and Glen's vocal styling...
Can you hear the pain  and travesty of the man gathering himself as he shine's his gun and longs for home, wondering if he'll ever see those sea birds flyin' or hear the waves a crashin' ever again "Galveston" it rips you apart...
Or the mundane, what seemingly is the world most tedious and boring job the guy setting up the phone cables as they stretch county to county, thinking about life and where its taken him.
Just the opening line in its delivery, wow, "I am a lineman for the County...." There is no doubt as you close your eyes and let that waft over you that you half expect to open your eyes and be in Witchita....

I've always had a full appreciation for Lyrics, but as I've gotten a little more tread on my tires, i'm digging in and remembering with a lot more "Love and Affection"

As a young man I remember wanting to be Davy and follow in his footsteps, Travel was always something i had dreamed of, wherever the wind would take me and as Manfred Mann sang

Davy's on the road again
Wearin' different clothes again
Davy's turning handouts down
To keep his pockets clean
Sayin' his goodbyes again
Wheels are in his eyes again
Sez if you see Jean now ask her please to pity me
Downtown in the big town
Gonna set you back on your heels
With a mouth full of memories
And a lot of stickers for my windshield
Shut the door
Cut the light
Davy wont be home tonight
You can wait till the dawn rolls in
You won't see our Davy again


Hardly classic lines I suppose but gathering that mouthful of memories and stickers for my windshield, that was so mouth wateringly appealing... lyrics man unbelievable...

LA's fine the sunshine's most the time... It is absolutely my good fortune to now reside in Southern California and even more so appreciate where I come from, you know the depressed industrial blue collar Northwest of England, described so accurately by Chris Rea "The screaming desolation of the English Northern Coast"  and where i now place my size 9's
I am I said to no one there, Neil Diamonds voice could surely be the only one that could sing those lines, the frustration of being alone, and still longing for home, caught between two coasts.
Having landed and traveled, there are no regrets, embrace, enjoy and roll along...

The true root of what made me think about lyrics as a stimulation of late... has to Paul Heaton, How I
missed this genius the first time around is beyond me, oh yeah i was travelling ...
Anyway his lyrical twists are humorous, sad, happy and true

If rain makes Britain great
Then Manchester is greater


I guess you need to have lived in both the UK and Manchester to truly appreciate every sentiment of the lines !!

I have a new affinity for Irish ballads of late and truly respect the art of Christy Dignam, Finbar Furey, Shane MacGowan, Paul Brady, Mundy, and the much under appreciated Sharon Shannon's squeeze box playing.

But again its the lyrics as they tell the stories

Oh how do you do, young Willy McBride,
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside,
And rest for a while in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done


Picture yourself sitting down to take a rest and glance over and imagine the story of the young man and why he died so young, "The Green Fields of France" depressingly beautiful, and closing your eyes you feel the warmth of the sun and as you listen to Finbar Furey and Christy Dignam's version, if you can hold back the tears your a better person than I...

Maybe its better to think of a lost love and contemplate "The Lakes of Pontchartrain"

How then can i not tell you to listen to the story of a young man down on his luck during the Irish famine,who took some corn from an English farmer to feed his children and sweetheart then paid the price and was shipped off to Australia...

The word picture of this incredibly beautiful song truly has you walking the banks of the River Clarin, past the old Dominican Priory, and into the fields of Athenry,


But a lonely prison wall,
I heard a young girl calling
Michael they have taken you away,
For you stole Trevelyn's corn
So the young might see the morn,
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay

Low lie, The Fields Of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing
We had dreams and songs to sing,
Its so lonely round the Fields of Athenry
I am not sure you can top the song for its atmospheric turbulence...

Phew its an emotional ride, ill leave for the moment with another poet of days gone by, remember that first time you thought this is it i'm home, weather a place you where born and raised, somewhere you were forced to, or just that magical place of self discovery, doesn't matter what age one or hundred and one, maybe you were born in the summer of your own twenty seventh year?


He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Coming home to a place he'd never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door
When he first came to the mountains his life was far away
On the road and hanging by a song
But the string's already broken and he doesn't really care
It keeps changing fast and it don't last for long
But the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
The shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullabye
Rocky mountain high (Colorado)
He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below
He saw everything as far as you can see
And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun
And he lost a friend but kept his memory
Now he walks in quiet solitude the forest and the streams
Seeking grace in every step he takes
His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand
The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake
And the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it raining fire in the sky
You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply
Rocky mountain high
Now his life is full of wonder but his heart still knows some fear
Of a simple thing he cannot comprehend
Why they try to tear the mountains down to bring in a couple more
More people, more scars upon the land
And the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
I know he'd be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly
Rocky mountain high
#bennysantiniproductions #grahamsataconcertagain 
bennysantini.blogspot.com

I've got soul but i'm not a soldier

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