Monday Morning Melodies

I'm hanging at SBX, getting some writing done while I wait for the afternoon meetings to commence. It's a glorious day--misty and fit for fireplaces, chili and pots of tea (can you tell I'm feeling a little peckish). Keeping me company--my trusty Sirius radio. Listening to Alex Bennett (Sirius Left) and an otherworldly discussion on the merits of Michelle Obama's badonka donk, they redeemed themselves by playing some acoustic Amy Winehouse.


In spite of--or sadly, because of--her much-storied personal struggles, she still ranks up there as one of the singular talents of her day. My fear is that, like Billy Holiday, she'll be gone too soon. Still, when I listen to her sing, I think about my mother, who, though still at the beginnings of her life as a woman, loved Billy's ageless voice. Here's a sample:


Beneath their personal dramas that played/are playing out in the tabloids, these women suggest a vital link to my business life: Each in her own way, they crafted their own, singular sound...and sang it. Looking forward to next year and the current climate of fear and scarcity that abounds, I'm struck by the opportunity to, like them, further explore my singular sound--really find it--and sing it to those people whose ears are attuned to listen.

The work of working and living "Like Nobody's Business" isn't as easy as it might seem.

Miriam Makeba, Mama Afrika (a tribute)

I was very small when I first heard Miriam Makeba. I'd come downstairs early one morning to see my mother putting on some music to jam to while cooking, cleaning and doing laundry. Momma danced through the house all day and when I asked her what the songs meant, she said she'd gotten the records from Sophia, a South African student who was studying at Purdue, just across the river. We'd ask her next time we saw her.

Sophia was like nothing and no one I'd ever seen--she was tall (or so she seemed to me at 8), mahogany, had a melodious accent, wore thread and beads in her long hair and was a refugee. Since the 1960's the South African government had been rescinding the visas of traveling students and others. Effectively, she and the others in her little contingent, were exiles.

Sophia brought us Hugh Masekela and Miriam Makeba. Momma brought Sophia Herbie Hancock and Miles Davis. What an exchange.

Our little house in that newly-integrated neighborhood (that would be us) was filled with people, music and foods from around the world.

Though it was that day I spent with Sophie--she was teaching Momma how to do my hair South-African style (in little semi-rural Lafayette, Indiana!) that I found out what Ms. Makeba was singing about. Her songs were about rural life there. They were about the evils of apartheid. They were about a deep love of Africa...about Zulu life. Sophia would say "here, she's saying 'Momma hurry. Don't let the Afrikaner police catch you!'' and "here she's singing a wedding song. Can you say the letter ! (the symbol for the click)." And my mother would pass her more beads and thread.

Ms. Makeba has suffered greatly before and during her exile. Before leaving South Africa, she and her band mates had been in a terrible accident with another car. The emergency medical personnel only helped the whites. Ms. Makeba's Black South African friends were left to die on the side of the road.

Human road kill.

Years later, she would return to South Africa a heroine. Nelson Mandela persuaded her to return after his release. He wrote this, in part, of her passing.

Her haunting melodies gave voice to the pain of exile and dislocation which she felt for 31 long years.

At the same time, her music inspired a powerful sense of hope in all of us. (read the rest)

So, when I heard that Ms. Makeba died on Monday while singing in Italy, I pushed back my desk chair and listened quietly to the retrospective on her life. And remembered...dancing through Momma's kitchen, singing songs a far away woman had taught me to sing, with beads clicking in my hair.

Monday Morning Melodies -- Adam and the Ants

I've got 11 days left on this Master's Degree. So, to start the final crunch, here's some old school, punk style.

"Ant Music" -- an all-time fave.

Monday Morning Melodies -- Tribute to Isaac Hayes

This week isn't starting off well. First, it was Bernie Mac and now we find that we've lost Isaac Hayes. He died Sunday afteroon after collapsing in his home.

Mr. Hayes was known for his sulty baritone, smoking orchestration and driving beats on such tunes as "The Theme from Shaft."

Here's a sample of what made him great.

Travel safely home, Black Moses. We'll see you on the other side.

 

Rush Appears on The Colbert Report. Lalita Dies in Peace

Gerck! Thud. So this is what heaven looks like. Awfully quiet.

OK, so I'm not dead, exactly. But I am pretty blissful. After waiting patiently (not really) for most of the week, I got to see Rush perform for the first time on television in 30 years on The Colbert Report.

Love this group. Their cataloge of songs and amazing wall of sound perforances have them ranked fifth behind The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Kiss and Aerosmith in most consecutive gold and platinum albums by a rock band. They performed Tom Sawyer (here's an earlier version). Had it been Free Will, I might have melted into a puddle with a few smouldering dreadlocks on top.

Here are the lyrics to this song, written over two decades ago. Almost prescient as it contrasts who a boy is perceived to be and who he actually is. People I meet tell me that, in their business dealings, they're not who they "really are." I have to ask them, when are you going to give that up and just "do you?"

Tom Sawyer

A modern-day warrior
Mean mean stride,
Today's Tom Sawyer
Mean mean pride.

Though his mind is not for rent,
Don't put him down as arrogant.
His reserve, a quiet defense,
Riding out the day's events.
The river

And what you say about his company
Is what you say about society.
Catch the mist, catch the myth
Catch the mystery, catch the drift.

The world is, the world is,
Love and life are deep,
Maybe as his eyes are wide.

Today's Tom Sawyer,
He gets high on you,

And the space he invades
He gets by on you.

No, his mind is not for rent
To any god or government.
Always hopeful, yet discontent,
He knows changes aren't permanent,
But change is.

And what you say about his company
Is what you say about society.
Catch the witness, catch the wit,
Catch the spirit, catch the spit.

The world is, the world is,
Love and life are deep,
Maybe as his skies are wide.

Exit the warrior,
Today's Tom Sawyer,
He gets high on you,
And the energy you trade,
He gets right on to the friction of the day

Mourning a Comedian: George Carlin Dead at 71

Learned that George Carlin--stand-up comedian, philosopher, actor, writer--has passed away in Vegas this past weekend. How very sad to lose someone so terribly funny.

I remember when I 'd first heard George Carlin. I was a child and he was appearing as a guest on some children's show out of Chicago. He was doing a children's version of the Hippy Dippy Weatherman and I remember shifting my noggin back and forth--like a dog trying to make sense of some strange sound: Look at the strange adults...wonder what they're talking about.

His use of language and slant on American society and politics were legend with his "Seven Dirty Words" which challenged the government's right to control what was said in the public airwaves. To say his humor could be "black" just doesn't quite capture it--his humor was smouldering tar.

Monday Morning Melodies

Look out the window, people. It's going to be a lovely day!

Bill Withers ("Lean on Me"), A Lovely Day

Monday Morning Melodies

It's going to be that kind of week. I'll need super powers to get it all packed in. I've got a little more than two months and I've finished my Masters, while operating my little empire, maintaining my relationship, supporting my widowed Dad and keeping the spiders at bay (they decided to move in when it started to pour a while back).

I need my Wonder Twin.

Here are two version of "In the Hall of the Mountain King" sometimes known as the theme song to Inspector Gadget, a show my brother, Rodney, and I used to watch when we shared an apartment the first time I was in grad school. We love this show and I love these versions of the Grieg classic.

Monday Morning Melodies

I know. I'm way too young to have experienced Bo Diddley, but I remember watching my mother putting on his records and rocking the house for years. It's from her that I got the love of old, old school and Miles, Herbie Hancock and Miriam Makeba who were the staples of Momma's repertoire throughout our lives. I'm still an old school girl.

Well Bo, "The Originator," died today at age 79. He gave us "I'm a Man" (remade by George Thorogood as "Bad to the Bone,"), "Who Do You Love" and much, much more.

Hey Bo Diddley in 1966. He's backed up by Norma-Jean "The Duchess" Wofford on the second guitar and the Bo-ettes, Lilly "Bee Bee" Jamieson and Gloria Morgan.





Who Do You Love, which starts

I walked 47 miles of barbed wire,
Used a cobra snake for a neck tie.
Got a brand new house on the roadside,
Made out of rattlesnake hide.
I got a brand new chimney made on top,
Made out of human skulls.
Now come on darling let's take a little walk, tell me,
Who do you love,
Who do you love, Who do you love, Who do you love.

Dang! No wonder I strolled over in the land of punk!