Waterfall is a Christian worship song by Reuben Morgan. As a worship pastor, he sang and wrote for the Pentecostal megachurch Hillsong Church for many years. When I was a member of Mornington Baptist Church in the early 2000s, a small entourage from Hillsong, including Reuben as the principal guest, came to perform. My job was to operate the video setup and lyrics during their performance.
As part of the “team,” we got to spend time with Reuben and company over a meal. It was a real thrill for me to talk with him in person, since I was such a big admirer of his work.
His contributions on the live worship album For All You’ve Done at the Sydney Entertainment Centre were brilliant. I cannot begin too tell you how big that album was ….hitting the mainstream charts at No. 1. I had also recently bought his solo album World Through Your Eyes (image inset), which I was playing to death at the time.
Today’s featured song, Waterfall along with the title track, were my favourite songs from the record. The latter will feature here in the not-too-distant future due to the alphabetical order of listing.
World Through Your Eyes, debuted at No. 3 in the Australian Christian Charts. As of at least 2025, he is no longer involved with Hillsong, but along with fellow former Hillsong vocalist Ben Fielding, started a band called CXMMXNS.
Here I am dieing to say I am desperate for your touch I fall upon this desert ground and I am empty at your feet Will you break me now Will you take me in your grace
Take me deeper in love Take me deeper with you Where the streams of your mercy run Feel your waves over me Feel your power over me In the roar of your waterfall
Wash away the hidden stains Of my falleness I pray I’ll tell the world Of all you’ve done Of your saving power in me
Welcome to Monday’s News on the March – The week that was in my digital world.
My last News on the March post was way back in March, so it’s nice to return to it again. I hope it becomes a more regular feature this year since I enjoy writing them, even though they can be a little time-consuming to put together – not unlike the Wednesday literature extract features. At least I’ve been more consistent with those lately.
I recently came across this article on the Bob Dylan Expecting Rain website, which posts a daily stream of Dylan-related news and content. In fact, I’m humbled to say that articles from my own music blog have appeared there on occasion. Sometimes when I look at my statistics and find that a Dylan article has approached 1000 views in a single day, I’m almost certain that Expecting Rain played its part.
Many followers of rock ’n’ roll history will know of the famous ‘Judas!’ shout during Bob Dylan and the Band’s 1966 Manchester Free Trade Hall concert. It became far more than a heckle from the crowd. Symbolically, it captured one of those signpost moments in modern music history that represented not only Dylan’s transition from folk singer to rock star, but also the emergence of a new genre itself: folk-rock.
On that world tour Dylan famously went fully electric with the Band in the second half of the show, much to the disdain of many folk purists in the audience. Then someone shouted ‘Judas!’ towards the end of the concert in clear protest at the music on offer. Dylan retaliated by shouting back, “I don’t believe you… you’re a liar!” before turning to the Hawks and commanding them in no uncertain terms: “Play it f&cking loud!” They then launched into Like A Rolling Stone. You can listen to the interchange here.
Decades of speculation followed over who had actually yelled it. In 2005, broadcaster Andy Kershaw claimed in an article that the culprit was John Cordwell, after an earlier claim by a Canadian fan had largely been dismissed.
To give John Cordwell his due, he later defended his ‘Judas!’ outburst by saying:
“I think most of all I was angry that Dylan… not that he’d played electric, but that he’d played electric with a really poor sound system. It was not like it is on the record [the official album]. It was a wall of mush. That, and it seemed like a cavalier performance, a throwaway performance compared with the intensity of the acoustic set earlier on. There were rumblings all around me and the people I was with were making noises and looking at each other. It was a build-up.“
It is difficult to know exactly what is true even after all these years. At the 1965 Newport Folk Festival, where Dylan first went electric in such a public way, there was a similarly feverish backlash. Some insist the anger was largely due to the poor sound quality rather than the electric music itself. Pete Seeger, according to legend at least, was so frustrated that he supposedly threatened to cut the cables with an axe.
So was the hostility really about the sound, or was it more deeply tied to Dylan’s dramatic break away from the folk purist movement that had embraced him? Perhaps it was both. Whatever the case, that cry of ‘Judas!’ still echoes through rock history as the sound of an audience witnessing one of music’s great transformations in real time.
Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird was mandatory reading for us in secondary school. Along with the poetry of Robert Frost, the book made the biggest impression on me of all the literature we studied in English classes.
I suspect I wasn’t the only teen who held it in such high esteem, since the book was, I imagine, integrated into many school programs not only in Australia, but internationally. It is, of course, one of the great American novels.
The movie of the same title adapted from the book, starring Gregory Peck, was also shown to us. It sits at No. 4 on my list of 100 favourite movies. Not to take anything away from the legendary book, there exist few movie adaptations which rival their respective books, but for me this movie was one of them.
Decades later I saw the biographical movie Capote about Truman Capote’s research for In Cold Blood. In Cold Blood is renowned as one of, if not the greatest, works of literary journalism ever realized. The movie shows Lee accompanying Capote to Kansas in 1959 to help research the Clutter family murders that became the basis for In Cold Blood. Many scholars believe her interviewing skills and observations were crucial to the project.
I had also read elsewhere that Capote may have assisted Lee in the writing of her masterpiece. You see, they were both childhood friends in Alabama, and it appears almost certain that Capote read drafts of To Kill a Mockingbird and offered feedback and editorial suggestions. So the assistance flowed both ways.
What I found so interesting about the Harper Lee documentary is how it explores the context and history of the novel’s Deep South setting, along with the social changes inspired by both the book and the feature film after their release. The documentary also explores Go Set a Watchman, Lee’s controversial later-published novel. I hope you enjoy it.
When this video appeared in my YT feed showing Ben Shapiro and Bruce Springsteen in the same image, I clicked on it faster than you could say, “Facts don’t care about your feelings.”
Ben Shapiro lets rip into Bruce Springsteen after Bruce’s recent blast at the Trump Administration during his Boston show. I know people who have been turned off Bruce’s music altogether because of his forceful political rhetoric as a staunch lifelong Democrat and his consistent endorsement of Democratic presidential candidates since 2004.
There are also Democrat-leaning supporters here too, so I’m going to be careful what I write because people can get pretty touchy when it comes to politics. What do they say for civil purposes in social settings? Avoid the subjects of “sex, politics and religion” – all the juicy stuff.
What I’m instead going to do is have a lend of both Shapiro and Springsteen in my assessment of their recent vitriol. First and foremost, almost nothing Bruce says politically will dim my adoration of his music and its impact on me since I was a kid. It’s a free country and he can say what he likes.
While I personally don’t share Bruce’s political views, I still love the guy’s music. Do I wish he kept his political views to himself? I sure do! He’s a singer-songwriter, and an amazing one at that, but I don’t believe he should step into this stuff during one of his shows – with a teleprompter no less. Give me a break, man.
I think if Bruce wants to demonstrate politically and unleash his opinions, he could instead do so outside the realm of his musical artistry – like on a blog or Instagram. Go for it Bruce, “whatever”, as Mark Knopfler sang here Friday.
Now over to Shapiro. He is a political and news commentator, and in my opinion he is very good at what he does, much like Bruce is with music. So he can rebuke all he wants Bruce’s sledge at Trump, and what have you with his usual astute counter punches of the content of the message. That’s all well and good.
But sometimes Shapiro is too smart for his own good, where he overextends himself by doing exactly what Bruce did at the Boston show. He starts ripping into Springsteen as a has-been and one of the most overrated contemporary music artists. Hey Ben, I thought you were better than this? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. This is insane!
That’s all for now – until next time. Thanks, as always, for reading.
I remember years ago watching Catholic Bishop Robert Barron discussing the old medieval metaphor called the Wheel of Fortune, which is occasionally seen in medieval churches and cathedrals. It was derived from the Roman goddess Fortuna.
At the top is a king, at the bottom a pauper, on one side a king who has lost his crown, and on the other a man climbing a ladder. It symbolizes the unpredictable rise and fall of human fate. According to the Christian interpretation, Christ is at the centre of the wheel – pure love.
The Christians say where you should live is at the centre of the wheel, where Christ is. The secular interpretation like the Christian one might be finding a form of ‘indifference’ and detaching oneself from the rim of the wheel – detached from success, failure, more success or less success.
The Bishop mentioned how today’s featured song Watching the Wheels refers to the Wheel of Fortune. Lennon’s song, he said, is straight out of the medieval mystics. John Lennon acknowledged he had ridden this wheel like crazy, but near the end of his life he found a certain indifference to it, along with relief and a sense of bemusement through detachment.
No longer ridin’ on the merry-go-round I just had to let it go
The song appears on Lennon’s posthumous compilation The John Lennon Collection shown inset. I don’t know how many times I put the needle down on this record as a kid, but it was a lot. We had one of those old wooden turntables which looked like a dresser, and I remember sitting in front of the fireplace listening to it.
My memories are thick with Watching the Wheels and his other big songs from his final record Double Fantasy including [Just Like] Starting Over, Woman and Beautiful Boy. In fact, Watching the Wheels was the third single released from Double Fantasy, after (Just Like) Starting Over and Woman.
Lennon addresses those who were confounded by his “househusband” years from 1975 to 1980, during which he stepped away from the music industry to concentrate on raising his son Sean with Yoko Ono.
“I hadn’t stopped from ’62 till ’73 – on demand, on schedule, continuously. Walking away was hard…”
For someone who had been globally famous since his early twenties, stopping meant confronting a frightening question: Who am I if the world stops watching?
The single was released posthumously in 1981 after Lennon’s murder. It reached No. 10 on the US Billboard Hot 100 and No. 30 in the UK.
[Verse 1] People say I’m crazy Doin’ what I’m doin’ Well, they give me all kinds of warnings To save me from ruin When I say that I’m okay Well, they look at me kinda strange “Surely you’re not happy now? You no longer play the game”
[Verse 2] People say I’m lazy Dreamin’ my life away Well, they give me all kinds of advice Designed to enlighten me When I tell ’em that I’m doin’ fine Watchin’ shadows on the wall “Don’t you miss the big time, boy? You’re no longer on the ball”
[Chorus] I’m just sittin’ here watchin’ the wheels go ’round and ’round I really love to watch them roll No longer ridin’ on the merry-go-round I just had to let it go
[Verse 3] Ah, people askin’ questions Lost in confusion Well, I tell them there’s no problem Only solutions Well, they shake their heads and they look at me As if I’ve lost my mind I tell them, “There’s no hurry I’m just sittin’ here doing time”
This little bluesy rocker from Dylan certainly kicks the day into gear with its toe-tap-inducing rhythm, screeching guitar and saloon bar piano. And wouldn’t you know it? This was recorded in 1971 at Blue Rock Studio in New York City.
It seems like Dylan is having a rollicking good time on this one too. I recently wrote about how the likes of Bob Dylan and John Lennon tried to emulate pioneering artists such as Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Fats Domino and Jerry Lee Lewis. Well, this is one of Dylan’s many forays into that style.
I love the laid-back writing in this one too, and what’s astounding is that producer Leon Russell recalled that when developing the song, the basic track was formed and Dylan then wrote the lyrics in several minutes.
It makes me recall that conversation when Dylan and Leonard Cohen were sitting in a cafe in Paris. Dylan asks him, ‘How long did it take you to write Hallelujah?’ Cohen responds, ‘Oh you know, a couple of years.’ Cohen then returned the favour and asked, ‘How long did it take you to write Just Like a Woman?’ and Dylan said, ‘Fifteen minutes.’
In Watching The River Flow, Dylan finds himself at dawn in an all-night cafe. He’s out in the middle of nowhere, watching trucks roll by until he sits down on a bank and watches the river flow. He misses the city and wishes he had wings and could fly, but for now he’ll just have to be content and watch the river flow.
Dylan is pretty chill here, like the river flowing by. It represents, both artistically and privately, his more relaxed nature after settling down with Sara and having kids. He doesn’t want to get caught up in petty disagreements or changing the world anytime. It’s interesting that he’s growing fond of just sitting there watching the river flow while all this stuff is swirling around in his brain.
For someone who initially wanted to leave the river and get back to the city quick smart, he gradually finds after some contemplation that the river is bringing a state of serenity and calm. For those of us who live in the hustle and bustle of the city, I think every now and again we need to reunite with Mother Nature.
Wikipedia:
Dylan in March 1971 asked Leon Russell, who made his name with Joe Cocker, to assist in finding a new sound after a period of immersion in country rock music. Watching the River Flow was recorded with Dylan singing live with the band. The next day he recorded When I Paint My Masterpiece.
Four and a half months after the recording session, Russell backed Dylan on bass at the Concert for Bangladesh, organized by George Harrison. Then in November 1971, Russell accompanied Dylan into a studio again to record Dylan’s next single, George Jackson.
Watching the River Flow has been interpreted as Dylan’s wish to deliver less politically engaged material and to find a new balance between public and private life.
[Verse 1] What’s the matter with me I don’t have much to say Daylight sneaking through the window And I’m still in this all-night café Walking to and fro beneath the moon Out to where the trucks are rolling slow To sit down on this bank of sand And watch the river flow
[Verse 2] Wish I was back in the city Instead of this old bank of sand With the sun beating down over the chimney tops And the one I love so close at hand If I had wings and I could fly I know where I would go But right now I’ll just sit here so contentedly And watch the river flow
[Chorus] People disagreeing on all just about everything, yeah Makes you stop and all wonder why Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street Who just couldn’t help but cry Oh, this old river keeps on rolling, though No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow And as long as it does I’ll just sit here And watch the river flow
[Outro] Watch the river flow Watching the river flow Watching the river flow But I’ll sit down on this bank of sand And watch the river flow
Watch Me Gone delicately weaves between a graceful and subtle Celtic melody something Mark has long been partial to in his solo work, and a pedal steel guitar that conjures atmospheric images of breezy air and open terrain. It’s a lovely blend of sound which soothes the senses and drifts with an easy fluidity, like a memory slowly fading into the distance. It also showcases Mark’s sensibilities as a songwriter as he has matured and been drawn towards a softer and more pensive sound in his music.
Watch Me Gone finds Mark reflecting on his career, destiny and relationships. Its restrained arrangement gives the song an intimate and wistful quality, with Knopfler’s weathered voice adding tenderness and resignation. He reminisces about his early days making music – broke, frustrated and obsessed – and how in that infatuation he pushed the one he loved away, while he himself became lost to it.
And I didn’t know from nothing, not even my own voice.
He’s saying goodbye not only to his humble beginnings, but also to much of the heartache attached to them. A once stirring love is now left scarred and worn in his pursuit of a music career. The female choral parts drift softly in and out of the song like distant memories. Such was his compulsion and drive that he kept at it, not exactly sure where the unknown road of music would lead him.
Watch me go, babe, watch me gone.
But there’s also a quiet acceptance that the road he took was perhaps inevitable. Then Mark gives a nod to those artists he accompanied, toured and worked with, namely Bob Dylan and Van Morrison.
Well, maybe I’ll hit the road with Bob or maybe hitch a ride with Van.
This nostalgic journey finally ends where it all began for him, with one-way memories of his youth in Newcastle upon Tyne. The hopscotch traces he recalls still remain, but the chalk lines have faded from what they once looked like. Like those lines which will eventually disappear, he too must disappear. So he puts his old boots back on and then watch him gone. Then, almost nonchalantly, he simply says, ‘whatever’. Such is life.
From Wikipedia:
Watch Me Gone is from Mark’s latest and tenth solo studio album, One Deep River (2024). It was one of three singles released from it alongside Ahead of the Game and Two Pairs of Hands.
The album’s cover art depicts the Tyne Bridge spanning the River Tyne, which passes through his hometown of Newcastle upon Tyne.
[Verse 1] There was a train leaving for a big beat in a big life Are you coming? I may have asked you once or twice But I’d already left the hallway with broken lights Some dingy landing we used to tumble from Where the stairs were cracked and worn, whatever
[Chorus] Watch me go, babe, watch me gone
[Verse 2] And the songs were pushing harder all the time Wasn’t your fault, then again, it wasn’t mine Broke, frustrated, and obsessed You saw me as ridiculous, I guess
[Verse 3] And I didn’t know from nothing, not even my own voice But I knew there was something and I knew there was no choice I was leaving mostly heartache but I was in no mood to rejoice There was so much that was wrong, whatever
[Chorus] Watch me go, babe, watch me gone (watch me go, babe, watch me gone) Watch me go, babe, watch me gone (watch me go, babe, watch me gone)
[Verse 4] Well, maybe I’ll hit the road with Bob or maybe hitch a ride with Van It’s all gonna happen and I’ll be a happening man And God must still be laughing at a boy and his plans In the streets where they were born
[Verse 5] And the hopscotch traces, well, you can still see them here The chalk lines faded and unclear Time for me to disappear Put my old boots back on, whatever
[Chorus] Watch me go, babe, watch me gone (watch me go, babe, watch me gone) Watch me go, babe, watch me gone (watch me go, babe, watch me gone)
Who’s up for a highway song? I first heard this only recently when I was researching another rocker from the Southern rock band Blackfoot called Train, Train. You see, that song and today’s featured song Highway Song were their big hits from the 1979 album Strikes, reaching No. 38 and No. 26 respectively on the US Billboard charts.
In both songs you can hear a Lynyrd Skynyrd sound throughout. Heck, even the vocals of Rickey Medlocke and Skynyrd frontman Ronnie Van Zant are similar in pitch and delivery. And what do you know? Rickey Medlocke played with an early incarnation of Lynyrd Skynyrd before later rejoining the band permanently in the mid-1990s. In effect, he became linked to both bands: Blackfoot and Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Highway Song really is a classic American Southern rock song. I was about to call it “no-frills”, but where this song perhaps rises above the signature Southern rock sound, at least to me, is in its spectacular guitar solo which cranks the song into top gear starting just over halfway through. You wouldn’t believe that solo goes for nearly three minutes because the time just whooshes by while listening to it. This song is like their Free Bird.
Like Lynyrd Skynyrd, Blackfoot originated from Jacksonville, Florida and formed in 1969. The group disbanded in the mid-1980s but reunited several times afterwards, though later line-ups often differed from the original band, especially after Medlocke returned to Lynyrd Skynyrd in 1996.
[Verse 1] Well, another day, another dollar After I’ve sang and hollered Oh, it’s my way of livin’ and I can’t change a thing Another town is drawin’ near Oh, baby, I wish you were here But the only way I can see you, darlin’, is in my dreams
[Chorus] It’s a highway song You sing it on and on On and on
[Verse 2] Well, the hurt you leave behind Its the hurt that’s on your mind Oh, and last night’s show took its toll on me Well, the city lights fly by me As I lay my body in my bed Oh, and dreams of you dance through my head
[Chorus] It’s a highway song You sing it on and on On and on Highway song Is as lonely As the road I’m on
[Verse 3] It’s those big wheels are ready to roll We’ve been flyin’ high and so low Lord, and all this madness ain’t as crazy as it seems Everywhere they stop to stare I’m just a stranger on this road Oh, I stand alone only in my dream
Warning: The following post contains discussion of death and, in particular, suicide. It should therefore be approached with caution, or avoided altogether by readers who may be sensitive to such material.
Welcome back to my Wednesday literature segment. Today I feature another ten-page excerpt from yet another book by US novelist Paul Auster called In the Country of Last Things. Despite the book being only 188 pages long, I read it as quickly as I can remember reading any novel. I was completely fascinated by it. As usual, if you enjoy dabbling in books, feel free to join me [here] on Goodreads.
Although this book was published before Paul Auster’s previous novel which I reviewed – The Music of Chance – I decided to read In the Country of Last Things later because of its dark and ominous subject matter. I suspected I might not respond well to it since I had been going through a rough patch myself and thought it might only darken my own outlook. But strangely enough, the book had the opposite effect. I found myself emboldened and inspired by it.
In the dystopian world of In the Country of Last Things, set in a roughly contemporary time, society is collapsing into ruin as food, objects, language, and even human purpose slowly disappear, leaving people to scavenge merely to survive another day. The city feels like a waking nightmare where hope is fragile, memory is fading, and every street carries the sense that civilisation itself is quietly vanishing.
The narrator of the novel is Anna Blume, a young Jewish woman who enters the collapsing unnamed city in search of her missing brother, William. The book is written as a long letter – or epistle – from Anna to an unnamed friend or confidant outside the city, which gives the story an intensely personal and reflective tone. She does not even know whether the letter will ever be read, but she continues writing, refusing to disappear and become yet another “last thing.”
As Anna tries to survive in a world where nothing is produced and everything is running out, she gradually realises the hopelessness of her quest. Yet despite living in some of the bleakest circumstances imaginable, she refuses to give up and continues her search. Therein lies the faint but important silver lining the novel leaves us with.
We are with Anna constantly. We enter her mindset and begin to see and feel the world through her eyes until her struggle almost becomes our own.
Contrary to Paul Auster’s The Music of Chance, which had a gripping and fast-paced opening, the only part of In the Country of Last Things I found somewhat difficult was its long introduction, where Anna describes the world around her in exhausting detail. At first it almost feels less like a story and more like an encyclopedic account of a dying civilisation.
But as Anna begins recounting her daily existence, you realise that this information overload is necessary. Without it, the reader could never fully understand the grim routine and constant danger of her life. Before long, I found myself completely absorbed in Anna’s ordeal. At times it almost felt as though I were living in two worlds – Anna’s shattered reality and my own comparatively ordinary existence in between reading sessions.
It goes without saying that the book became a real page-turner for me. When I was not reading it, I almost felt untethered from Anna’s world and strangely guilty for leaving her behind. That may sound a little extreme, but such is the intensity of this novel.
The other aspect which drew me to Anna’s story was the substance of her character. She is by no means faultless, like any of us, and at times gives in to temptation, including sexual temptation. She is human after all. But it is her humble fortitude and quiet humanity amid such spiritual and physical decay that makes her so compelling.
Such is the depravity and hopelessness of the city that many people decide to take fate into their own hands and end their lives. In this world, suicide almost becomes another form of self-expression or personal control. Since authorities view human bodies as valuable energy resources, death itself becomes strangely commercialised and, at times, quietly encouraged.
One example is the “Leapers,” people who climb to high places and throw themselves to their deaths before gathered crowds. So common has self-destruction become that there are many different avenues available for those wishing to die:
Euthanasia clinics – places where people voluntarily go to die in an orderly, institutionalised manner.
Assassination clubs – organisations where individuals pay to be murdered as a way of escaping despair.
Running clubs – people literally run themselves to death through exhaustion and collapse.
Voluntary starvation or neglect – many simply stop fighting for survival altogether.
For the purpose of the extracts below, we will focus on one of these avenues in particular: the “Running Clubs.” The strange and senseless idea of running until death from exhaustion somehow feels disturbingly believable.
If we consider that even in today’s comfortable modern world people willingly push themselves through extreme endurance events and punishing physical suffering, then it is not difficult to imagine that in a dystopian world – where purpose has almost disappeared and survival itself feels meaningless – some people would be drawn toward the idea of simply running until they drop dead.
Below, Anna Blume describes the sect of the “Runners,” how they train obsessively, and how they eventually depart together on their final run toward death. This also sets the scene for the longer excerpt which follows.
So that is that for the “Runners” and “Leapers,” but it leads us to the later scene below in which Anna is undertaking her daily ritual of scavenging as an object hunter. During one of her rounds she notices a tall, middle-aged, decrepit woman struggling to push her shopping cart over loose stones. At that very moment Anna realises the woman is directly in the path of the approaching runners and is frozen in terror like a deer in headlights.
Anna immediately detaches herself from what is known as an “umbilical cord” – a rope tied between herself and her shopping cart to stop it being stolen – and rushes toward the woman to pull her away from almost certain death beneath the runners.
After this brush with death, Anna and the woman – whom we later learn is called Isabel – strike up an unlikely but spirited friendship. In many ways, Isabel ends up rescuing Anna from her own foreseeable ruin just as much as Anna’s earlier actions saved Isabel.
So, as is customary for me to write here, if you have ten minutes to spare, grab yourself a cuppa and strap yourself in. Please excuse the poor image quality and crude formatting. Without further ado, I present to you In the Country of Last Things.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. And as always, thanks for reading.
When I see Chopin’s name appear alongside a piece such as today’s, and without even discerning which one it may be, my eyes still light up in anticipation because I know I’m guaranteed to be swept away by something so divine and magical. And true to form, Chopin delivers here in Waltz in C Sharp Minor and then some.
I don’t know how anyone cannot be touched by the immaculate, yet modest sound of this. How something so seemingly elementary and unassuming in its delivery can inexplicably transform into such exquisite musical grandeur is the magic I alluded to. It is beyond my meagre understanding how he pulled off such musical artistry of the highest order.
If there’s anyone who could demonstrate through music that “The little things… there’s nothing bigger, is there?” it was Chopin in his solo piano pieces. Such economy of sound! Heck, even his piano concertos with orchestral backing reflect an ease of flow and restraint without the usual fanfare, orchestral weight and deluge of sound often found in the works of some of his contemporaries.
But what’s ironic and almost unfathomable (and not to sound too much like a broken record and overstate the obvious) is how such humble offerings can carry over into something as penetrating, intuitively meaningful and idyllic to the listening senses as one could ever wish to hear.
I’ll turn it over now to Rousseau in his marvellous description of Waltz in C Sharp Minor presented below, which says it better than I could ever hope to in describing this music in plain old words:
Chopin’s Waltz Op. 64 No 2. The penultimate waltz he published, and one of the last works he ever composed. In contrast to the grandeur in some of his more lively waltzes, Chopin was also a master of melancholy, as captured in this waltz. Even in the major theme, I can’t help but feel something bittersweet – who knew the feeling of loneliness and longing could be so beautiful?
The Waltz in C-sharp minor is the second of the three waltzes of his Opus 64, and the companion piece to his very famous Minute Waltz. Chopin dedicated it to Madame Nathaniel de Rothschild.
The following is abridged and translated from my daughter’s book on Chopin (see image above):
Son of a Frenchman and Polish woman, Chopin was born 22 de February, 1810. Before he could learn to read he wanted to compose melodies. When he was 8-years old he played for large audiences and at 15 he was considered the finest pianist in Warsaw. Chopin wanted tranquility but in Warsaw large marching bands and the yells from angry people annoyed him. So, he decided to move to Paris where he discovered fame, luxury and high fashion. In Paris everyone celebrated the arrival of Chopin. He was renowned as the ‘Prince of Pianists‘. Chopin died in Paris at age 39. His last wishes were that they play Mozart at his funeral and let his heart rest forever in the Warsaw Cathedral.
Bold as Love might not be as popular as Hey Joe or All Along the Watchtower, but I think it stands right up there with those towering greats, at least for me. I liked how one person described Jimi Hendrix in the comments: “If he is not your favourite guitarist, then he is your favourite guitarist’s favourite guitarist.”
When he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1992, they described him as “arguably the greatest instrumentalist in the history of rock music”. One thing seems certain: his guitar sound is instantly recognisable. That tone is so expressive, with its fuzzy overdrive and remarkable control of feedback.
Jimi’s legacy as a pioneering rock guitarist is already well established, but he still seems something of an enigma because of just how impactful he was in such a short period, helping shape and in part create the psychedelic and heavy rock scene. Born Johnny Allen Hendrix, he emerged from the American rhythm and blues (R&B) and Chitlin’ Circuit scene, having worked as a sideman for legends like Little Richard, Sam Cooke, and the Isley Brothers before achieving global fame.
One must wonder how enormous his place in contemporary music history might have been had he lived longer. Jimi’s death at just 27 seemed to ominously foreshadow the so-called “27 Club”, where the likes of Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse all died at that same young age from overdose or suicide.
Bold As Love is the title track of Axis: Bold as Love, the second album by the Jimi Hendrix Experience. As Hendrix biographer Harry Shapiro put it, it is “an Olympian battle of passions whose strategy is mapped out … self-evidently in colours”. The song sounds very much in keeping with the psychedelic rock scene scene in both lyric and sound:
Towering in shiny metallic purple armor / Once happy turquoise armies lay opposite, ready.
Then when the guitar goes unhinged in the latter stages, it echoes, bends and warps. It is like gazing through a glass prism and seeing white light dispersed into a spectrum of colours through refraction, before another prism draws it all back together again. Isaac Newton might have appreciated the trip as much as Jimi, and perhaps been just as confounded by it.
[Verse 1] Anger, he smiles Towering in shiny metallic purple armor Queen Jealousy, envy waits behind him Her fiery green gown sneers at the grassy ground Blue are the life-giving waters taken for granted They quietly understand Once happy turquoise armies lay opposite, ready But wonder why the fight is on
[Chorus] But they’re all bold as love Yes, they’re all bold as love Yeah, they’re all bold as love Just ask the axis
[Verse 2] My red is so confident, he flashes trophies of war And ribbons of euphoria Orange is young, full of daring But very unsteady for the first go ’round My yellow in this case is not so mellow In fact, I’m tryin’ to say it’s frightened like me And all of these emotions of mine keeps holdin’ me from Givin’ my life to a rainbow like you
[Chorus] But I’m, uh, yeah, l’m bold as love Yeah, yeah, well I’m bold, bold as love Hear me talkin’, girl I’m bold as love Just ask the axis He knows everything Yeah, yeah, yeah
Bruce Springsteen’s Be True was one of those songs that somehow slipped through the cracks for me over the years, only to be rediscovered while researching this project. When I relistened to it after an absence of at least three decades, the feelings I had listening to it as a teenager came flooding back. The song rekindled that aching longing for young love – the kind that feels pure and hopeful. At that age, one barely even understands what love is, yet Bruce Springsteen somehow managed to evoke vivid images and emotions of what it could, and perhaps should, look like.
For those of us who were into Bruce Springsteen at school, his music taught us things about growing up that the classroom never could. He was almost like an older brother figure – someone willing to speak openly about feelings and experiences nobody else seemed to explain. His songs seemed to say: this is what’s coming, this is why you feel the way you do, and you’re not alone in it.
There was something both reassuring and inspiring about that. Bruce had already lived through those uncertain young adult years and was writing honestly about the hopes, fears and confusions we were so curious about, yet still frustratingly ignorant of ourselves. As he famously sang in No Surrender:
“We learned more from a three-minute record, baby, than we ever learned in school.”
The live rendition of Be True below was captured during the early leg of the Tunnel of Love Express Tour at Joe Louis Arena, Detroit, MI in March 1988. This highly acclaimed performance was officially featured on his live four-track Chimes of Freedom EP, which was released to support Amnesty International.
The song was originally written and recorded as a studio outtake during the The River sessions in 1979 and initially appeared as the B-side to the Fade Away single in 1981. It was left off the River in favour of Crush on You. It’s hard not to feel Be True deserved a spot there too.
I’m glad the concert version of Be True gives more room for Clarence Clemons glorious saxophone playing and the song warrants it. It may well be my favourite Springsteen song built around the Big Man’s sax work. It has to be one of the best songs left off The River – an absolute cracking track.
[Verse 1] Your scrapbook’s filled with pictures of all your leading men Well baby, don’t put my picture in there with them Don’t make us some little girl’s dream that can’t ever come true That only serves to hurt and make you cry like you do Well baby, don’t do it to me and I won’t do it to you
[Verse 2] You’ve seen all the romantic movies, you dream and take the boys home But when the action fades you’re left all alone You deserve better than this, little girl, can’t you see you do? Do you need somebody to prove it to you? Well, you prove it to me and I’ll prove it to you
[Bridge] Now every night you go out looking for true love’s satisfaction But in the morning you end up settling for lights, camera, action
[Verse 3] And another cameo role with some bit player you’re befriending You’re gonna go broken-hearted looking for that happy ending Well girl, you’re gonna end up just another lonely ticket sold Cryin’ alone in the theater as the credits roll You say I’ll be like those other guys Who filled your head with pretty lies And dreams that can never come true Well baby, you be true to me and I’ll be true to you
Observation Blogger 