The Importance of Ice Cube

Growing up in rural Iowa did not provide many opportunities for interacting with black people, so my exposure to them came through 80’s mass media. If Run DMC and The Cosby Show were any indication, black people were talented, popular and well-respected. Besides those two examples, every black on television was either a fast athlete with trend-setting attire, an excellent singer and/or dancer with trend-setting attire or a good-natured, naïve orphan dependent upon white adults and peers to prevent them from making poor decisions. In retrospect, this may seem like a joke or exaggeration, but, um, nope. Remember, MTV was very hesitant to show blacks and only did so selectively and calculatedly until Michael Jackson blew that barrier apart after he began making elaborate and impressive videos that couldn’t be refused or ignored in 1983.

This disturbing reality is the backdrop for the most shocking thing I’d ever encountered in my 12 years of life, when, in seventh grade, I heard “Fuck Tha Police,” By NWA, being played through a boombox in the clay modeling area of the art room.

Upon hearing the unavoidable chorus, I wondered why anyone would say something like that. Simply listening to the verses reveals this song is about racial prejudice within the LA police enforcement and judicial system. More importantly, this song is a series of first-person accounts of what it is like to be a young black man living in the LA projects. As a young white man living in rural Iowa, I had literally no first-hand experience of police enforcement or the judicial system. One of my favorite television shows, however, had been Dukes of Hazzard, and so I sort of just figured cops were incompetent, unthreatening blowhards who ticketed bad drivers.

Public outcry protesting both the song and the band was loud and furious. The FBI sent the members of NWA a threatening letter accusing them of “advocating violence against and disrespect” for police officers. Parental Advisory stickers, which had been a compromised result of a 1985 Senate censorship hearing but had rarely been used, were suddenly omnipresent. (The first use of the sticker had been on Ice-T’s debut album in 1987.) It is extraordinarily important to recognize that, despite all the attention and backlash “Fuck Tha Police” received, nobody seemed at all concerned with investigating the LAPD or the California judicial system. The general public was shocked that this song was exposing their children to the f-word, not that this song was exposing racial injustice. It was deemed crucial that anger and violence should not leave the black neighborhoods; that was their problem… and their fault. When you peel away the layers, you find that the real concern was not to protect the children, but to silence the voice of the minority daring to speak against the unfair treatment they are receiving.

This wasn’t the first time I had encountered lyrics that shocked me. The first time was on a bus enroute to a little league baseball game, when I heard The Beatie Boys’…

“(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party!)”
You wake up late for school, man, you don't wanna go
You ask you mom, "Please?" but she still says, "No!"
You missed two classes and no homework
But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk

You gotta fight for your right to party

You pops caught you smoking and he said, "No way!"
That hypocrite smokes two packs a day
Man, living at home is such a drag
Now your mom threw away your best porno mag (Busted!)

You gotta fight for your right to party

Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear
I'll kick you out of my home if you don't cut that hair
Your mom busted in and said, "What's that noise?"
Aw, mom you're just jealous- it's the Beastie Boys!

You gotta fight for your right to party

This asinine song encouraging teenage disobedience has no socially redeeming qualities. However, of all the songs on Beastie Boys debut album, Licensed to Ill (1986), this one is the least offensive. Some of them have a verse about shooting people followed by one about raping girls. The rest are about drinking, eating junk food and dealing with girls. “Paul Revere” even mentions cops: The sheriff's after me for what I did to his daughter- I did it like this, I did it like that, I did it with a whiffleball bat. Why didn’t anybody freak out about The Beastie Boys lyrics? They were hugely popular and influential while avoiding disparaging mass protests, threatening government letters or even a parental advisory sticker. They are also three Jewish kids from New York, so perhaps there couldn’t be more of an apples and oranges comparison.

Straight Outta Compton (1988) opens with the declaration, “You are now about to witness the strength of street knowledge.” Besides “Fuck Tha Police,” it contains songs that run the spectrum from “Parental Advisory Iz Advised” and “Express Yourself” to “Gangsta, Gangsta” and “Dope Man.” (Another highly controversial song, “A Bitch Iz A Bitch,” was a single added to the remastered version of Straight Outta Compton in 2002) Almost all of the lyrics on the album were written by O’Shea Jackson, using the pseudonym Ice Cube. His lyrics never quite go where you’d predict, for example “Dope Man” derides drug addicts. The characters in his songs almost always end up in prison. Ice Cube refuses to turn a blind eye to grim realities, and black on black violence is a central issue. Despite the grim subject matter, there is always wittiness in spades, and this is the key to NWA’s success. “Gangsta, Gangsta,” which is about a group of black kids driving around and terrorizing the neighborhood because they are bored, contains this gem:

Sweatin all the bitches in the biker shorts (but) we didn't get no play from the ladies- with six niggaz in a car, are you crazy?

One mustn’t lose perspective that Ice Cube is primarily an entertainer. He’s not a politician, physicist, psychologist or whatever- he’s a goddamn rapper. Ice Cube is a persona, a caricature played by a man named O’Shea Jackson. His lyrics weave freely between clowning and sincerity, gravitating toward whatever’s most entertaining. Ain’t nothin’ in life but to be legit- don’t quote me now; I ain’t said shit. He consistently defrays anyone from looking up to him as a role model, and makes it obvious that he’s exposing inner city violence as something to escape and not glorifying it.

Ice Cube’s lyrics contain a lot of tough talk and posturing, and while the outside world would cite that as a reason why they are baseless fiction to be ignored, in the inner city this is a necessary survival tactic. Street knowledge is basically the art of knowing how to handle yourself in a hostile environment. In the inner city, you have to wear a thick skin and retain a strong will to protect yourself from various pressures from people desperate to make a buck.

From 2000-2004, I lived in a neighborhood known as the “Iron Triangle” in Richmond, California. It was a close-knit community where knowing your neighbors was not an option but of the essence. During that same time, I was working late nights at a recording studio in the Tenderlon District in San Francisco, where I met and worked with dozens of rap artists, and playing avant-garde and experimental music in underground clubs in Oakland, including several centers run by the Black Panther party. In 2004, I moved to Oakland for a year. Those five years taught me a lot of lessons and showed me a lot of things, some of which would raise the hairs on the back of your neck. I will attest that to this day, when I feel threatened by someone or that they are trying to intimidate me, my first thought is to exclaim, I from fucking Oakland bitch; don’t even try an’ fuck wit’ me. Similarly, when I see a car driving down the street at five miles per hour, which is a frequent occurrence in the sleepy rural Iowa town in which I now reside, I still think, They either lookin’ to shoot or get shot. You never, ever act suspiciously in the ‘hood. You don’t want to look like a tourist. In Iowa, everyone basically acts like a tourist. Of course, they would likely have no idea what I mean by that, but it’s a convenient coincidence that the state’s name is an acronym for Idiots Out Wandering Around.

People in the inner city enjoy competition in a sporting sense. It is common to see men in open garages playing cards or families gathered around dominoes while cooking large meals together. This helps generate a strong bond of community. Gangs consist of a few greedy control freaks and a whole lot of teenagers desperate for a modicum of recognition and respect, but the vast majority of the community works hard to discourage gangs and remain safe. Moments of intense violence are borne from desperation, a lot of which relates to drugs, but also inner-turmoil stemming from deep-seated values of pride and familial loyalty. You don’t dare talk badly of anyone behind their back unless you are also willing to say it to their face. Speaking directly, decisively and frankly is expected and appreciated.

In contrast, people in Iowa tend to survive by being insular. They stay close to those they’ve known for years and try not to attract too much attention from outsiders. Iowans are not neighborly; in fact most prefer no or few neighbors. The degree to which Iowans will go to avoid communication or even eye contact with strangers in a public place is beyond impressive. Iowans are not used to handling stressors. They think traffic is a slow-moving vehicle (aka a tractor) that they’d need to pass to continue toward their destination at the speed limit. When confronted with any sort of direct challenge to any behavior, Iowans tend to completely lose their shit and respond with passive-aggressive immaturity and back-stabbing. As a result, Iowans are very suspicious of each other. People in Iowa enjoy staying in agreement and away from any competitive friction. They watch sports but don’t generally play them. They talk about the weather and how messed up the rest of the world is. Iowans think anything outside of their comfort zone sounds awful and is best avoided.

These culturally based ways of experiencing the world are mutually exclusive. No black person can go unnoticed in a rural Iowa town for the simple reason that there just aren’t that many people of color around here. An easy way to overwhelm an Iowan with panic and fear is to drop one in the ghetto. Even in places where it is more common, white people throughout the United States tend to be much more comfortable with blacks in isolation rather than in groups.

Iowans think, “If you don’t want trouble from the cops, don’t do anything illegal.” In the ‘hood, that assumption is straight up ign’ant. This assumption comes from experiences such as one that happened a few months ago, when a police officer in Iowa City hollered out the window at my white girlfriend while parked next to her at a stoplight that she had a headlight out. About a month ago, I was pulled over on a country road and given a warning for speeding, and as I drove off, I noticed I had three empty beer bottles sitting on my passenger seat which the officer didn’t inquire about. The fact that many are suddenly wondering the story behind the bottles illustrates my point perfectly. Two weeks ago, an officer in almost the same location flashed his lights at me to signal to slow down, and I obliged. I highly doubt any black person in America can relate to these experiences. Perhaps the biggest similarity between Oakland, California and the tiny towns littering Iowa is the main roads leading out of both are often hidden and unmarked. However, two other important shared traits are an appreciation for church and self-referential humor. One big difference is that if you talk shit about the ghetto to a hoodlum, it’s understood, but if you say anything bad about Iowa to an Iowan, heaven help you.


Part II
1990 was a world dominated by MC Hammer and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, but it was also the debut of In Living Color on Fox, which shone like a ray of hope above anything on television featuring blacks. At first, I would watch it on Sunday nights in secret, not knowing whether it would be considered a bad influence. It laughed loudly at both the cultural treatment and media portrayal of skin color and race in America. Eventually, I used its sketches as starting points to instigate conversations about race relations, because the show seemed able to delineate the line between absurd and unacceptable.

1990 was also the year of Amerikkka’s Most Wanted, Ice Cube’s superb solo debut album produced by The Bomb Squad, best known for their work with Public Enemy. Many of the songs begin with sampled clips of mass media degrading American blacks and himself, contextualizing his lyrics as responses to and the result of white majority attitudes. A parody of himself being electrocuted after spouting the last words, “Fuck all ya’ll” is followed by a defiant rap that loudly mocks the claim that he’s the villain while drawing parallels between his lyrics and a drive-by shooting. He also demonstrates that the solutions are just as absurd as the problems.

"The Nigga Ya Love To Hate"
I heard payback's a motherfucking nigga
That's why I'm sick of gettin’ treated like a goddamn stepchild
Fuck a punk cause I ain't him
You gotta deal with the nine-double-M
The damn scum that you all hate
Just think if niggas decide to retaliate
They try to keep me from running up
I never tell you to get down it's all about coming up
So what they do go and ban the AK?
My shit wasn't registered any fucking way
So you better duck away, run and hide out
When I'm rolling real slow and the light’s out
‘Cause I'm about to fuck up the program
Shooting out the window of a drop-top Brougham
When I'm shooting let's see who drop
The police, the media and suckers that went pop
And motherfuckers that say they too black
Put ‘em overseas they be begging to come back
They say keep ‘em on gangs and drugs
You wanna sweep a nigga like me up under the rug
Kicking shit called street knowledge
Why more niggas in the pen than in college?
Now ‘cause of that line I might be your cellmate
That's from the nigga ya love to hate

(background voice) Fuck you, Ice Cube!
Yeah, ha-ha, it's the nigga you love to hate
(background voice) Fuck you, Ice Cube!
You know, baby, your mother warned you about me
It's the nigga you love to hate
Yo, you ain’t doing nothin’, pops
You ain’t doing nothin’, pops, fo’ us boys
What you got to say for yourself?
You don’t like how I'm living? Well, fuck you

Once again it's on, the motherfucking psycho
Ice Cube the bitch killa cap peeler
Yo runnin through the line like Bo
There's no pot to piss in I put my fist in
Now who do ya love to hate
‘Cause I talk shit and down the eight-ball
‘Cause I don't fake you're begging I fall off
The crossover might as well cut them balls off
And get your ass ready for the lynching
The mob is droppin’ common sense in
We'll gank in the pen
We’ll shank any Tom, Dick and Hank or get the ass
Fakin’ it ain't about how right or wrong you live
But how long you live
I ain't with the bullshit
I meet cold bitches no hoes
Don't wanna sleep so I keep popping No-Doz
And tell the young people what they gotta know
‘Cause I hate when niggas gotta live low
And if you're locked up I dedicate my style in
From San Quentin to Rykers Island
We got ‘em afraid of the funky shit
I like to clown so pump up the sound
In the jeep make the old ladies say
Oh my god wait it's the nigga ya love to hate

(background voice) Fuck you, Ice Cube
Yeah, come on fool
It's the nigga you love to hate
(background voice) Fuck you, Ice Cube
Yeah, run up punk
It's the nigga you love to hate
(Yo-Yo) ‘Who the fuck do you think you are you calling girls bitches?
You ain't all that
That's all I hear, bitch, bitch
I ain't nobody's bitch!’
A bitch is a....

Soul Train done lost their soul
Just call it train cause the bitches look like hoes
I see a lotta others damn
It almost look like the Bandstand
You ask me did I like Arsenio?
About as much as the bicentennial
I don't give a fuck about dissing these fools ‘cause they all scared of the Ice Cube
And what I say what I portray and all that
And ain't even seen the gat
I don't wanna see no dancing
I'm sick of that shit listen to the hit
Cause yo if I look and see another brother
On the video tryin to out-dance each other
I'm a tell T-Bone to pass the bottle
And don't give me that shit about role model
It ain't wise to chastise and preach
Just open the eyes of each
‘Cause laws are made to be broken up
What niggas need to do is start loc’ing up
And build, mold and fold they-self into shape
Of the nigga ya love to hate

Throughout the album, Ice Cube loudly rejects the status quo and refuses to yield his perspective. He reminds the listeners he still hates cops. In a song featuring the annoying Flavor Flav called, “I’m Only Out For One Thang,” Ice Cube very subtlely admits that not having his voice silenced has become a high priority. From his NWA days, Ice Cube had frequently declared his motivations were “money and bitches.” This is patently offensive, but also jarringly honest. Imagine if everyone who was motivated by those things admitted it. He specifically says this to cynically demonstrate his shortcomings: In “Gangsta, Gangsta,” he writes, Do I look like a motherfuckin’ role model? To all the kids lookin’ up to me- life ain’t nothin’ but bitches and money, which is juxtaposed by a KRS One sample in the chorus that says, It’s not about a salary, it’s all about reality. Anyway, in what sounds like an improvised throw-away outro of “I’m Only Out For One Thang,” Flavor Flav jokingly persists in asking Ice Cube to clarify what one thing he’s after and Ice Cube finally responds, I’m out for the pussy, the money and the mic. The humor reminiscent of Monty Python’s Spanish Inquisition sketch is obvious, but even keeping that intact, any long-time listener would have anticipated his answer to be “bitches and money.” This makes the addition of “mic” stick out as a declaration that being able to speak whatever it is he has to say is an essential goal.

The rap genre as a whole, and Ice Cube specifically, have been heavily criticized for being misogynistic. This is somewhat justified and one factor is the cultural impact of outspoken black male-chauvinists like Louis Farrakhan. Amerikkka’s Most Wanted introduces a female rapper named Yo-Yo in a song which attempts to reconcile perspectives on gender. Ice Cube takes the role of someone who thinks women should serve men, and Yo-Yo insists women deserve equality and respect.

Yo-Yo would go on to put out at least three very good albums, one of which Ice Cube co-produced and rapped on, and when Ice Cube started his own record label in 1994, he put Yo-Yo in charge (according to wikipedia.org). Although she had moderate success, Yo-Yo somehow never became a huge hit like her male peers. This ugly fact demonstrates the accuracy with which Ice Cube successfully captures not only localized attitudes but those of America as a whole in his lyrics. Like Archie Bunker, Ice Cube is both entertaining and relevant because he is publicly echoing thoughts that are claimed to be outdated but many silently cling to.

On March 3, 1991, a black man named Rodney King was filmed being brutally beaten by several Los Angeles police officers while other police officers stood by. After this incident became the top news story, the members of NWA should have received a whole lot of letters of apology for having criticized and been insulted by their claims of police violence on blacks instead of giving them diligent consideration. Instead, a jury demonstrated it wasn’t that the claims weren’t believed, but that police violence on blacks was acceptable. Inaction in striving for equality of justice could no longer be blamed on ignorance, but wholly on apathy. Tom Brokaw’s frank assessment that “Outside the South Central area few cared about the violence, because it didn’t affect them,” which had been used as a sample on Amerikkka’s Most Wanted, was once again validated.

John Singleton’s directorial debut, Boyz N the Hood (1991), came to theaters almost immediately after the Rodney King video broke with the tagline, “Once upon a time in South Central L.A... It ain't no fairy tale.” The title is borrowed from the title of the Ice Cube penned song that became the impetus for forming NWA, and includes Ice Cube in his acting debut. Today, the movie comes off as clunky and dated, but it accelerated the cinematic concept introduced by Spike Lee of giving an uncensored portrayal of the challenges and obstacles faced by black teens in the projects in movies like the seemingly prophetic Do the Right Thing (1989).

Death Certificate (1991) and Predator (1992), Ice Cube’s second and third solo albums, are just as good as Amerikkka’s Most Wanted. He also helped introduce Del the Funky Homosapien and produced Da Lench Mob’s magnificent Guerillas in the Mist (1992). In 1992, he also married Kimberly Woodruff. They are still married and have four children. In late December 1992, so basically 1993, another former NWA member Dr. Dre, now signed to a label financed by a real-life gangster named Shug Knight, released his solo debut. Although Dre was the famous name on The Chronic, it showcased the talent of a young unknown named Snoop Doggy Dogg and acted both as an introduction and test market warm-up for Snoop Doggy Dogg’s Doggystyle (1993). Both of these albums are over-rated, but they had a ton of commercial success. The failure of Ice Cube’s fourth album, Lethal Injection (1993) was that he seemed to lose confidence that the stuff he had been doing in the years between NWA and The Chronic was way better than The Chronic.

Acting is possibly a better fit for what Ice Cube attempts to communicate than rap. For example, when you rap about being a drug dealer, people assume you’re a drug dealer, whereas when you play the role of a drug dealer in a movie, people realize you’re acting. Ice Cube is not an exceptional actor, but he exudes confidence in front of the camera. When he turned down the male lead in John Singleton’s second movie, Poetic Justice (1993), Ice Cube recommended another gifted songwriter named Tupac Shakur.

For two years, I was the Assistant Engineer for the engineer who had mixed Digital Underground’s self-titled breakthrough album, and he often recounted the quickness and ease with which Tupac could listen to a beat, write a verse of lyrics and rap those lyrics over the beat in such a way that you could never imagine one had ever existed without the other. It is unfortunate that those who have decided they don’t like rap music will never get to appreciate how much more advanced rap lyrics are than what is found in any other American musical style.

With the successful rap producer DJ Pooh, Ice Cube co-wrote the hugely-successful comedy Fridays (1995), which launched the acting career of stand-up comedian Chris Tucker, and two sequels. He would re-join the cast in Singleton’s third movie, Higher Learning (1995), which is a creepily poignant depiction of how gangs are formed.

Hopefully the day will come when American blacks are given the same recognition and respect as white Americans, but, until then, it will remain essential for people like Ice Cube to bring the voice of the minority to the masses. This needn’t require heavy-handed preaching; simply re-telling entertaining stories from the point of view of those oppressed can be enough to trigger discussion, generate empathy and remind us of injustices. This will always bring strong resistance from those benefiting from the desperate, but boldly persisting in defying the roles society assigns us offers hope, at least for a time.

"Once Upon A Time In The Projects"
Once upon a time in the projects, yo,
I damn near had to wreck a ho
I knocked on the door - "Who is it?"
“It's Ice Cube, come to pay a little visit to you
And what's up with the niggas in the parking lot?”
She said, “Fuck ‘em, ‘cause they get sparked a lot.”
I sat on the couch but it wasn't stable
And then I put my Nikes on the coffee table
Her brother came in he's into gangbanging
‘Cause he walked up and said, "What set you claiming?"
I don't bang I write the good rhymes
The whole scenery reminded me of good times
I don't like to feel that I'm put in a rut
By a young nigga that needs to pull his pants up
He threw up a set and then he was gone
I'm thinkin to myself, Wont this bitch bring her ass on.
Her mother came in with a joint in her mouth
and fired up the sess it was sess no doubt
She said, “Please excuse my house,” and all that
I said, “Yeah,” ‘cause I was buzzed from the contact
Lookin’ at a fucked up black and white
Her mom's bitching ‘cause the county check wasn't right
She had another brother that was three years old
And had a bad case of the runny nose
He asked me who I was then I had to pause
It smelled like he took a shit in his little drawers
I saw her sister who really needs her ass kicked
Only thirteen and already pregnant
I grabbed my forty out the bag and took a swig
‘Cause I was getting overwhelmed by BeBe Kids
They was runnin’ and playin’ and cussin’ and yellin’
and tellin’ and look at this young punk bailin’
I heard a knock on the door without the password
and her mom's got the 12 guage Mossberg
The nigga said "Yo, what's for sale?"
and the bitch came out with a bag of ya-yo
She made the drop and got the 20 dollars
from a smoked out fool with ring around the collar
The girl I was waiting for came out
I said, “Bitch, I didn't know this was a crack house!”
I got my coat and suddenly...
(Stop, the police, don’t move. Freeze, or I’ll kill ya!)
The cop busted in and had a Mac-10 pointed at my dome
and I said to myself once again it's on
He threw me on the carpet, and wasn't cuttin’ no slack
stomped on my head and put his knee in my back
First he tried to wrap me up, slap me up, rough me up
They couldn't do it so they cuffed me up
I said, “Fuck, how much abuse can a nigga take?
Hey yo, officer, you're making a big mistake!”
Since I had on a shirt that said I was dope
He thought I was selling base and couldn't hear my case
He said, “Get out of my face!” He musta had a grudge
His reply, “Tell that bullshit to the judge.”
The girl I was with wasn't saying nothin’
I said, “Hey yo, bitch, you better tell ‘em something.”
She started draggin’ and all of a sudden
we all got tossed in the patty wagon
Now I beat the rap, but that ain't the point
I had a warrant so I spent two weeks in the joint
Now the story you heard has one little object
Don't fuck with a bitch from the projects!

My Favorite Things

I’ve had a line from a song stuck in my head for about a week now: “If you like piña coladas….” That’s the only line I know, and since I don’t at all enjoy cloying cocktails, I have no idea why I keep singing this line. The song is a trite one about someone finding his soul mate in the classifieds by listing various they like to do, which made me start thinking about the Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II song, My Favorite Things. I don’t really know the words to that one either. In fact, the songs I know the lyrics to are limited to a few nursery rhymes and 80’s cartoon theme songs.

Relying solely on memory, my guess was that Rodgers was employing in this song an old trick of the trade that in medieval times was used as proof that the devil is always lurking in the shadows. In any major key, if you play the same notes beginning on the sixth note in that scale, you will be playing a minor key. Musicians call this the relative minor. I imagined the song skipped along in a major tonality until the B section ("When the dog bites…"), where he deftly switched to the relative minor.

The first thing I noticed upon hearing the actual tune was that the Julie Andrews version is atrocious. Singing is eschewed in favor of acting cutesy. Thankfully, the original Mary Martin version is listenable. And, as it turns out, I was totally incorrect in my imagined assessment. The song is played in E minor, which, in part because it only has one accidental (F#), is, for lack of a better description, gentle on the ears. (I remember as a kid asking a music teacher what minor keys were and being told it was a scale of notes that sounded spooky. This is an egregiously inadequate explanation.)

The song begins only with a B and the whole first phrase uses only two other notes, E and F#. It then gradually harmonically expands these notes in a manner reminiscent of Beethoven (for example), unraveling the notes cautiously and politely in a lilting, un-syncopated waltz. Then, the contrast in the B section is done simply by imposing a slur leading into a rest on the downbeat of every other measure. Simple. He is, after all, writing a children’s song.

Less than a year after the song debuted on Broadway in The Sound of Music and long before the movie adaptation, John Coltrane used My Favorite Things as a vehicle tune to reintroduce the soprano saxophone, an instrument that had been played by Sidney Bechet, a major figure in the development of jazz at the turn of the century, but had been virtually completely neglected since. Coltrane plays the melody in an elastic 6/8 time- common in African music but almost never heard in classical Western music- over a steadily repeating piano vamp (courtesy of McCoy Tyner) channeling an Afro-Cuban tumbao part. Adding syncopation immediately renders Rodger’s B section gimmick useless, and, in fact, Coltrane never plays the B section at all. Instead, Coltrane tacks a two measure turnaround onto the A section. A “turnaround” is a device frequently employed in jazz as a means to fluidly get from the end of a melody line back to the beginning. Once in place, the turnaround enables Coltrane to loop the A section ad nauseum. Indeed, Coltrane explores the A section in depth, but when he finally breaks free from it, he performs a parallel or, more generally, a modal transformation of the song, turning it from E minor to E major!

Whereas switching from a minor key to the relative major (for example, from E minor to G major) uses the same notes starting in two different places along the scale, a parallel change from E minor to E major involve different scale notes but start in the same place. The final movements of several late Romantic era Russian compositions, such as Rachmaninoff’s Symphony #2, also explore this move from E minor to E major. Coltrane, like every innovator, had been diligently doing his homework in researching the innovators that came before.

This may all be a bit tedious to you, and if so, you will be relieved that I removed an entire section elaborating on tonal modality, but are really going to want to kick my ass when I reveal my point in mentioning all this: the manipulation of frequencies, dynamics and tempos in sounds are among my favorite things. Another of my favorite things is researching innovators.

I am often criticized for being too picky. Call me what you will, but sometimes I feel like the complaint is really that I’m too curious. We humans are wired to enjoy all things magical. Where magic doesn’t exist, we maintain it with willful ignorance. Humans become conservative in order to avoid having to come to terms with the possibility that their knowledge, experiences or beliefs are sub-par. Anthropologically, the best explanation I can guess for this condition is that a sober assessment of reality would cause suicide rates to skyrocket and procreation rates to plummet. (Perhaps that’s just a pithy circular argument, i.e. we enjoy the magical because reality sucks.) Sometimes, finding out too much about something does destroy the allure. (One example that comes to mind is meeting George Clinton.) Other times, however, as is the case with John Coltrane’s musical endeavors, further discovery can increase the appeal to the point of obsession. For me, these are the truly wonderful things in life, which is why everybody’s constant yammering about how much they like something that they know little to nothing about will continue to peeve me to no end. But, to honor the example of Coltrane’s interpretation of My Favorite Things, I am going to attempt to avoid negativity and focus on things that make me happy.

Here are a few more of my favorite things: watching baseball (biased toward San Francisco Giants), watching soccer (biased toward FC Barcelona), playing disc golf, eating Thai food, eating seafood, drinking single malt Scotch whisky, making cocktails, laughing with friends, being able to say offensive things without anyone taking offense, watching Japanese movies, tinkering with non-digital gadgets, studying military history, debunking myths, giving massages, wielding knives, getting tattooed, female orgasms, listening to cicadas and thunderstorms, campfires, playing Risk, keeping abreast of advances in physics, science fiction in general, gaining independence in skill and thought, perusing thrift stores and estate sales, Glencairn whisky glasses, being in the presence of the ocean, exercising conscious awareness of sensory information, analyzing everything and hot showers.

I Will Survive

At first I was afraid- I was petrified! Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side… but then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong and I grew strong… and I learned how to get along. And so you're back from outer space- I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face. I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key, if I had known for just one second you'd be back to bother me.

Go on now- Go! Walk out the door. Just turn around now, 'cause you're not welcome anymore. Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye? Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay (sic) down and die? Oh no, not I! I will survive! Oh, as long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive. I've got all my life to live and I've got all my love to give and I'll survive. I will survive! Hey, hey….

It took all the strength I had not to fall apart, just trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart, and I spent oh, so many nights just feeling sorry for myself. I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high and you see me, somebody new! I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you. And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free? Well, now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me.

Go on now- Go! Walk out the door. Just turn around now, 'cause you're not welcome anymore. Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye? Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay (sic) down and die? Oh no, not I! I will survive! Oh, as long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive. I've got all my life to live and I've got all my love to give and I'll survive. I will survive! Oh…!

-Gloria Gaynor

Beating on Death's Door

She's a slick one, born of greed
Speaking endless words, long and empty
A beggar who still wants to choose
A dethroned queen still demands her due
If you want something for nothing you take what you get
A virgin whore in a dirty wedding dress

Scream for salvation, beating on death's door
But just be careful what you wish for

There's a blood stain on the ceiling
But you're the only duck in the shooting gallery
Trying to look out through a bricked-in window
Your destiny lies in the alley below
Trying to see yourself in a shattered mirror
When all else fails, she holds you with broken arms
There's poison in her veins, but the bitch comes for free
A quick fix for all that you think that you need

Scream for salvation, beating on death's door
But just be careful what you wish for
The patron saint of fools answers all your requests
She's all yours now, so deal with it

She’s all yours now
She’s all yours
Your whore, deal with it

There's no shoulder left to cry wolf on
You're tied in knots that can't be undone
No more warnings will fall on deaf ears
You lied too many times, now no one cares

No one cares
No one cares
You liar
No one cares
No one cares

An empty promise with a heart of tin
Her crooked smile beguiles and it draws you within
The hope for something more, all that you wish for
A kick to the head and a boot to the door
Chasing a crack under the lady’s clothes
A paper trail ends in choking smoke
But you know you lit the match yourself
Play the burning cards that you dealt

Scream for salvation, beating on death's door
But just be careful what you wish for
The patron saint of fools answers all your requests
She's all yours now, so deal with it

She's all yours now, so deal with it
She's all yours now, so deal with it
-Lamb of God

Like A Rolling Stone

Once upon a time you dressed so fine- threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you? People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall-" you thought they were all a’kiddin' you. You used to laugh about everybody that was hangin' out. Now you don't talk so loud, now you don't seem so proud, about having to be scrounging your next meal.

How does it feel? How does it feel to be without a home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone…?

Aw, you've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely, but you know you only used to get juiced in it. Nobody’s ever taught you how to live out on the street and now you're gonna have to get used to it. You say you’d never compromise with a mystery tramp, but now you realize he's not selling any alibis as you stare into the vacuum of his eyes and say, “Do you want to make a deal?”

How does it feel? How does it feel to be on your own with no direction home, a complete unknown, like a rolling stone…?

Aw, you never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns when they all did tricks for you. You never understood that it ain't no good- you shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you. You used to ride on a chrome horse with your diplomat who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat. Ain't it hard when you discover that he really wasn't where it's at, after he took from you everything he could steal?

How does it feel? How does it feel to have (sic) on your own, with no direction home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone…?

Aw, princess on the steeple and all the pretty people they're all drinkin', thinkin' that they’ve got it made. Exchanging all precious gifts, but you'd better take your diamond ring- you'd better pawn it, babe. You used to be so amused at Napoleon in rags and the language that he used. Go to him now, he calls you- you can't refuse. When you ain’t got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. You're invisible now; you’ve got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel? Aw, how does it feel to be on your own, with no direction home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone…?

-Bob Dylan

Heart of Gold

I want to live
I want to give
I've been a miner
For a heart of gold
It's these expressions
I never give
That keep me searching
For a heart of gold
And I'm getting old
Keeps me searching
For a heart of gold
And I'm getting old

I've been to Hollywood
I've been to Redwood
I crossed the ocean
For a heart of gold
I've been in my mind
It's such a fine line
That keeps me searching
For a heart of gold
And I'm getting old
Keeps me searching
For a heart of gold
And I'm getting old

Keep me searching
For a heart of gold
You keep me searching
For a heart of gold
And I'm growing old
I've been a miner
For a heart of gold

-Neil Young

Wallflower

Wallflower, wallflower
Won't you dance with me
I'm sad and lonely too
Wallflower, wallflower
Won't you dance with me
I'm fallin' in love with you
Just like you I'm wonderin' what I'm doin' here
Just like you I'm wonderin' what's goin' on
Wallflower, wallflower
Won't you dance with me
The night will soon be gone
I have seen you standing in the smoky haze
And I know that you're gonna be mine one of these days
Mine alone
Wallflower, wallflower
Take a chance on me
Please let me ride you home

-Bob Dylan

You've Really Got A Hold On Me

I don't like you
But I love you
Seeing that I'm always
Thinking of you
Oh, oh, oh
You treat me badly
I love you madly
You've really got a hold on me
You've really got a hold on me

Baby,
I don't want you
But I need you
Don't want to kiss you
But I need to
Oh, oh, oh
You do me wrong now
My love is strong now
You've really got a hold on me
You've really got a hold on me

Baby,
I love you and all I want you to do is just
Hold me, hold me, hold me, hold me
Tighter, tigher

I want to leave you
Don't want to stay here
Don't want to spend
Another day here
Oh, oh, oh
I want to split now
I can’t quit now
You've really got a hold on me
You've really got a hold on me

Baby,
I love you and all I want you to do is just
Hold me, squeeze me, hold me, hold me

You've really got a hold on me
You've really got a hold on me

-Smokey Robinson

Intolerance

I don't wanna be
Hostile
I don't wanna be
Dismal
And I don't wanna
Rot in an
Apathetic existence
See I wanna
Believe you
And I wanted to
Trust you
And I wanna have
Faith to
Put away the dagger

But you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
And I tolerated it

Veil of
Virtue
Hung to
Hide your
Method while I
Smile and
Laugh and
Dance and
Sing your
Praise and glory
Shroud of
Virtue
Hung to
Mask your
Stigma as I
Smile and
Laugh and
Dance and
Sing your
Glory

While you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
How can I tolerate you?

Our guilt
Our blame
I've been
Far too
Sympathetic
Our blood
Our fault
I've been
Far too
Sympathetic

I am not innocent
I am not innocent
You are not innocent
No one is innocent

You lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
you lie, cheat and steal
How can I tolerate you?

I will not tolerate you
I will go down beside you
I must go down beside you
No one is innocent

-Tool

It’s Been a Long, Long Time

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long, long time
Haven't felt like this, my dear
Since I can't remember when
It's been a long, long time

You'll never know how many dreams
I've dreamt about you
Or just how empty they all seemed without you
So kiss me once, then kiss me twice
Then kiss me once again
It's been a long, long time

-Sammy Cahn

Jambi

Here from the king's mountain view
Here from the wild dream come true
Feast like a sultan I do
On treasures and flesh never few

But I
I would
Wish it all away
If I
Thought I'd lose you
Just one day

The devil and his had me down
In love with the dark side I'd found
Dabbling all the way down
Up to my neck soon to drown

But you changed that all for me
Lifted me up turned me around

So I
I
I
I
I would
I would
I would
Wish
This
All
Away

Prayed like a martyr dusk 'til dawn
Begged like a hooker all night long
Tempted the devil with my song
And got what I wanted all along

But I
And I would
If I could
Then I would
Wish it away
Wish it away
Wish it all away
Wanna wish it all away

No pressure could hold
Sway
Or justify my kneeling away my center
So if I could I'd wish it all away
If I thought tomorrow would take you away
You're my peace of mind my home my center
I'm just trying to hold on one more day

Damn my eyes
Damn my eyes

Damn my eyes if they should compromise our fulcrum
If wants and needs divide me then I might as well be gone!

Shine on forever
Shine on benevolent sun

Shine down upon the broken
Shine until the two become one

Shine on forever
Shine on benevolent sun

Shine on upon the severed
Shine until the two become one

Divided I wither away
Divided I wither away

Shine down upon the many
Light our way benevolent sun

Breathe in union
Breathe in union
Breathe in union
Breathe in union
Breathe in union
So
As one
Survive
Another day
And season

Silence leach
And save your poison
Silence leach
And stay out of my way

-Tool

Stinkfist

Something has to change
Undeniable dilemma
Boredom's not a burden
Anyone should bear

Constant over-stimulation numbs me
but I would not want you
Any other way

‘Cause:
It's not enough
I need more
Nothing seems to satisfy
I said
I don't want it
I just need it
To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive

Finger deep within the borderline
Show me that you love me and that we belong together
Relax, turn around and take my hand

I can help you change
Tired moments into pleasure
Say the word and we'll be
Well upon our way

Blend and balance
Pain and comfort
Deep within you
‘Til you will not want me any other way

But:
It's not enough
I need more
Nothing seems to satisfy
I said
I don't want it
I just need it
To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive

Knuckle deep inside the borderline
This may hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to
Relax, slip away….

Something kinda sad about
The way that things have come to be
Desensitized to everything
What became of subtlety?

How can this mean anything to me
If I really don't feel anything at all?

I'LL KEEP DIGGING
‘TIL I FEEL SOMETHING

Elbow deep inside the borderline
Show me that you love me and that we belong together
Shoulder deep within the borderline
Relax, turn around and take my hand

-Tool

Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest, they smiled like me and you
But now it's come to distances and both of us must try

Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye

I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time
Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me
It's just the way it changes like the shoreline and the sea
But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie

Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie

Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye

- Leonard Cohen

Theme From Cyrano

What would you have me do?

Seek out some wealthy patron and crawl like a clinging vine up the lordly tree? Rising by deceit and trickery instead of my own strength?
No thank you.

Imitate what others do and dedicate my works to the rich in the hope of arousing a smile of recognition from some sterile face?
No thank you.

Breakfast everyday on insults, wear out my knees and warp my spine with endless bowing and groveling in the dust?
No thank you.

Become a master of hypocrisy and opportunism, never letting my right hand know what my left is doing? Burn incense for some glorified idol of the day? Pull all the proper strings?
No thank you.

Shall I become the captain of some literary cult by writing stupid love songs for wealthy widows and navigate to success with their sighs filling out my sails? Pay some publisher to print my poems and bribe some critic to review them?
No, thank you!

Shall I become the high priest of a petty group of hack writers who dine together once a week?
No, I thank you!

Shall I build my reputation on one flawless poem and never write another? Should I scheme to get my name mentioned in the columns of some newspaper and smack my lips over the little praises written about me?
No, thank you.

Shall I calculate and scheme, live in fear, make visits instead of rhymes, meet all the right people, seek introductions and favors?
No, thank you.
No I thank you . . .
And again, I thank you!

Oh my friend, I prefer to sing, to laugh, to dream, to travel light in my own way, to see things as they are, and speak out without fear, to cock my hat at any angle that I choose, to duel if necessary for a quick “yes” or “no.” I prefer to work alone without any thought of reward, to scorn fame for a journey to the moon. Never write a line that does not ring with sincerity. I shall be content with the fruits and flowers that grow in my garden, no matter how small, because they belong to me. Then if success should come my way, no tribute ever need be paid to Caesar, whatever fortune or misfortune that happens shall be mine and only mine.

And although I may never reach the stature of a great oak tree, I shall never be a parasitic vine. I will climb perhaps to no great height, but I will . . . climb . . . alone.

-translated by Frank Devenport (orig. Edmond Rostand)

H.

What's coming through is alive
What's holding up is a mirror
But what's singing songs is a snake
Looking to turn my piss to wine

They're both totally void of hate and
Killing me just the same now

The snake behind me hisses
What my damage could have been
My blood before me begs me
Open up my heart again

And I feel this coming over like a storm again now
Considerately

Venomous voice tempts me
Drains me bleeds me
Leaves me cracked and empty
Drags me down like some sweet gravity

Take me

The snake behind me hisses
What my damage could have been
My blood before me begs me
Open up my heart again

And I feel this coming over like a storm again now
And I feel this coming over like a storm again now

I am too connected to
Slip away fade away
Days away I still feel you
Touching me changing me
Considerately killing me
Considerately killing me again
Considerately killing me
Considerately killing me again

Without the skin here
Beneath the storm
Under these tears now
The walls came down

Once the snake was drowned
And as I look in his eyes
My fear begins to fade
Recalling all of the times

I could have cried then
I should have cried then

As the walls come down
And as I look in your eyes
My fear begins to fade
Recalling all of the times
I have died
I will die
It's all right
I don't mind
I don't mind
I don't mind

I am too connected to you to
Slip away fade away
Days away I still feel you
Touching me changing me
Considerately killing me
Considerately killing me again
Considerately killing me

-Tool

Go Home

Well let me tell you if you’re feeling alone
Instead of whining and moaning
Just get on the phone, tell her you’re coming home
If you need her, you should be there
If you scream in your sleep, or collapse in a heap
And spontaneously weep, then you know you’re in deep
If you need her, you should be there
Go home

There’s nothing better than affairs of the heart
To make you feel so good then tear you apart
Make up your mind and stick it out or start again

You can’t imagine what an effort it takes
When you make a mistake
And you know in the wake that her heart’s going to break
If you need her, you should be there
If you’re flummoxed and flushed
And your heartbeat is rushed
Then get out of the slush, tell your dog team to mush
If you need her, you should be there
Go home

If you think of her as Joan of Arc
She’s burning for you, get your car out of park
If you think of her as Catherine the Great
Then you should be the horse to help her meet her fate
If you need her, you should be there
Go home

You can’t believe it, but it’s true
She’s given everything to you
Now take a moment to be sure
Before you give it all to her

Well now you’re thinking that its over at last
All your woes in the past
But you’ve got to be fast; put your foot on the gas
If you need her, you should be there
So now you’re out from under the gun
And its over and done
I won’t spoil all the fun but if you ever wonder
She’ll be there if you need her
Go home

If you’re lucky to be one of the few
To find somebody who can tolerate you
Then I shouldn’t have to tell you again
Just pack your bags and get yourself on a plane
If you need her, you should be there
Go home
If you need her, you should be there
Go home

- Steven Page and Ed Robertson

Song Lyrics

Some of you may be wondering why I've been posting a lot of song lyrics. The answer is easy: 1) I'm too lazy to write original blog entries right now; 2) I sometimes find myself listening to music that seems to be EXACTLY where I am at when I hear it.

I had a friend in college who was paranoid that the radio was sending him messages. "That's the beauty of music," I'd explain. The greatest art, by its very nature of expression limited by senses, allows us to feel connected to others. This connection is simultaneously profound and illusory. An example I like to use is all those who claim to relate to Holden Caulfield from The Catcher in the Rye even though NOBODY has ever acted anything like that character in the history of humankind.

Combining poetry with music is a sublimely potent means of communication. Despite all the song lyrics I have included in my blog, I have rejected others with ONE word that I couldn't precisely relate to. The lyrics I post are intended to relay to my (imaginary) audience where I am at that moment. I have even gone through my own past posts to try to recall how I was feeling at a particular time, found some lyrics I’d posted and listened to that song. It makes for effective memory triggering.

Now you know, and knowing is half the battle. G.I. JOE!

I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)

When I wake up, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next you
When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
If I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver, yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you
And when the money comes in for the work I do
I'll pass almost every penny on to you
When I come home (when I come home), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you
And if I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you
And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream
I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you
When I go out (when I go out), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
And when I come home (when I come home), yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you
I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

And I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

-The Proclaimers

p.s. Haver means to talk nonsense.

The Patient

A groan of tedium escapes me
Startling the fearful
Is this a test?
It has to be
Otherwise I can’t go on
Draining patience, drain vitality
This paranoid, paralyzed vampire act's a little old

But I’m still right here
Giving blood, keeping faith
And I’m still right here

But I’m still right here
Giving blood, keeping faith
And I’m still right here

Wait it out
Gonna wait it out
Wait it out

If there were no rewards to reap
No embrace to see me through
This tedious path I’ve chosen here
I certainly would’ve walked away by now

Gonna wait it out

If there were no desire to heal
The damaged and broken met along
This tedious path I’ve chosen here
I certainly would’ve walked away by now

And I still may (sigh)
And I still may

Be patient
Be patient
Be patient

I must keep reminding myself of this
I must keep reminding myself of this
I must keep reminding myself of this
I MUST KEEP REMINDING MYSELF OF THIS

If there were no rewards to reap
No embrace to see me through
This tedious path I’ve chosen here
I certainly would’ve walked away by now

And I still may
And I still may
And I still may
And I am…

Gonna wait it out
Gonna wait it out
Wait it out
Gonna wait it out

-Tool

Let Me Be The One You Need

May not know enough about you, babe
That can only come in time
Only know enough to make you stay
On my mind

Though I met you only yesterday
And only for a moment then
I knew I couldn't let you get away
I just have to see you again

I can be the one you love
Let me be the one you need
Take a look into your heart
Try to find a place for me

Can't say I can't live without you, babe
That's just some worn out loser's line
May not know enough about you, babe
But you’ve stayed on my mind

I can be the one you love
Let me be the one you need
Take a look into your heart
Try to find a place for me

-Bill Withers