Power to the People

"If Rosa Parks had obeyed the law, many of us who now drive the bus would be standing in the back of the bus."

Roger Toussaint
President - TWU Local 100
Speaking to members
at a pre-strike rally.

"I am a completely shameless asshole."

Same guy
Alone in his own house
Looking at himself in the mirror.

12/21/2005

In the spirit of full disclosure I am not going to lie to you. I can honestly say the transit strike that is going on right now in New York City has fucked me personally.

Along with 7 million other other people.

If you have no idea what I am talking about, let me give you a taste. At 6:30 this morning I was found myself crawling to the Metro-North station at Spuyten Duyvil in the Bronx to catch one of those Gregory Peck "Man in the Grey Flannel Suit" commuter trains. There was a line of people waiting to get on so they could get to Grand Central Staion and do their daily dance for The Man. It was twenty degrees out and steam was coming out of our mouths and noses as if we are on the sidelines of one of those Minnesota Vikings home games circa Decemeber 1976. And by the way, the station has the look and feel of a conformist nightmare that mankind use to rebel against but now embraces with the want and the need of a baby on his Mother's tit.

In other words exactly as it sounds.

The only reason why I bring this up is because earlier today I ran across some pictures that I feel tell the whole story.

Two Transit employees busting their asses!!!

But in all honesty, even if the pre-strike scenes above of MTA employees "Moving New York" were not that common, they do perfectly illustrate the general experience I have had (and I would argue MANY of us have had) whenever I needed a piece of information and/or assistance from a transit worker: be it surly, lazy or non responsive.

I remember having a yelling match with a token clerk in a mid town station because, I think, my card (Metrocards were new at that time) was not working or something. Again, I don't remember the exact circumstances but I do remember being totally right. Right in a common sense sort of way but, apparently, wrong in an "MTA rules" sort of way.

Now being a complete fucking tool my whole life, I completely understand the "dance, shit head, dance" thing, so that part didn't really bother me. It was that whole, "I don't care" dismissiveness she had and the "so what are you going to do about it" type attitude. It was so pathetic that it became enraging.

I mean, here is a person who, and I am not going to far out on a limb by saying this, has a pretty crappy job. She sits in a box all day dispensing (at that time) tokens and counting the minutes. Stimulation comes from nowhere and any disturbance to this completely mediocre world is met with hostility.

No one is arguing that THE FUNCTION of the New York City subway and bus system is indispensable to the health of this Metropolis. So, logically, since Transit workers are part of that system, using the Transitive Property, you can conclude their JOBS are also indispensable. But lets get real here. To equate these guys with Fire, Police and even Teachers is completely ridiculous and every time that clown Toussaint opens his grape and suggests that they are, sets back the cause of organized labor in general.

Especially when you have thousands of people ready to take their place.

If we are going to make some real headway in the fight to free the human spirit, we have to chose our fights. With that in mind, saying that an offer of 50k a year with complete health benefits and a retirement age pf 62 instead of 55 is an "insult" is, in actuality, insulting.

See you on the platform.
I'll be the one with my head in my hands...
And my heart on my sleeve...
Longing for the warmth of the cube.
Larry

Let Me Take You Down

How in the world you gonna see?
Laughing at fools like me?
Who on earth do you think you are?
A super star?

Well, right you are.

12/8/2005

Yes, I believe this image is appropriate and no, I did not lead this post with this stunning photograph to shock, mock or offend the memory of a true icon of the 20th century. I am simply trying to illustrate exactly what kind of artist, agitator and human being John Lennon was.

This was an album cover for God’s sake!!! At the height of his fame!!! What balls!!! (No pun intended)

Released in 1968, Unfinished Music #1: Two Virgins was an experimental album, which featured all kinds of noise that best could be described as "a continuation of Revolution #9." Featuring electronic sounds and "every instrument known to man played with no rhyme or reason," I think it is safe to say that probably no one ever really played this disc and bought it only to see a naked Beatle. It was quite a scandal and record stores didn't display it or covered it with a plain brown wrapper, if they stocked it at all.

I can’t really imagine any rock star today doing something like this. The closest thing I can think of was the Madonna "Sex" book. But even that wasn’t the same because "The Establishment" was not as established in 1990 (or whenever that thing came out) then it was in 1968. One of the reasons for that, of course, was this guy I am writing about.

Putting aside the overwhelmingly solid art Lennon wrote, co-wrote or was involved with between the years 1964 and 1975, it is the other things that make him truly great:

He cowardly walked away from his first wife, Cynthia, and his son, Julian, in the mid 1960s. He then completely redeemed himself in 1975 by walking away from a wildly successful music/public career to become a house-husband and to raise his second child, Sean. In my book, John grew up and became a man.

When The Beatles were given the MBE Medal (Member of the British Empire) in the 1960s, many former recipients, mostly Generals, Admirals and Military types, protested because The Beatles were "only singers." John immediately went on the offensive and suggested an intriguing idea. Why does someone have to kill or be killed to be honored by their government? Yes, he implies, that he was "only" a singer, but why wasn't the thing he was doing just as, if not more, important than dropping bombs against other human beings? Why is the enrichment of culture considered low in the pecking order of life while killing is the pinacle? If you think about it, isn’t that one of the core ideas progressive people have been striving to achieve ever since? Isn’t that simple notion one of the premises that certain segments of our population today want us to forget? Or worse, make us think like we never thought of it at all?

He later gave the M.B.E. back in protest, demonstrating the simple truth that external recognition can never fulfill internal longing. For that matter, doesn't necessarily make something "legitimate" either.

He moved to New York City in the 1970s, which was possibly the worst decade we ever had. Through urban decay, racial strife, forced bussing, off the charts unemployment, endless recession, municipal insolvency, blackouts and an astronomical crime rate he lived openly among us. He was regularly seen, with baby Sean in tow, all around town and in Central Park. He could blend in with the crowd, be just another regular Dad playing with his kid. He never let on that five years earlier he was one of the most famous men on Earth. That is the kind of transplant I would take…any day of the week.

He truly loved Yoko, and never allowed anyone to sway him of that simple fundamental truth. Besides the bullshit, "She broke up the Beatles" stuff which he had to hear from the millions of average Beatle fans which, I suppose, he could have easily dismissed, he also, I can imagine, was told countless times by personal mangers, producers, record executives or just acquaintances, lines like, "Leave her, she’s bad for your career," or "She just wants publicity," or some variation on that theme. But, for all those years, he never wavered. He was true to himself, and his love, which is probably the most important aspect of being a man.

And 25 years ago today he was murdered.

For absolutely no reason at all except that a psychologically damaged young man felt betrayed…or whatever…and decided to rob humanity of one of its most eloquent and insightful voices. The man who committed this awful crime 25 years ago probably wanted to be famous and remembered…so I will not even print his name.

I remember the night it happened. It was a Monday and since I just turned 13 I was at that age when "bed times" were becoming more and more irrelevant. I would have normally been sleeping at that time anyway but Monday Night Football was on. I used to really like Football.

It was during the game that one of the most infamous moments in Network Television happened. ABC commentator, Howard Cossell, announced that John Lennon was just shot in front of his home The Dakota, a luxury Manhattan Apt. building adjacent to Central Park. I ran into the kitchen to tell my mom and she was completely shocked. I ran back to the TV and a little bit later, I would like to say 5 minutes but I could be wrong, Cossell announced in his nasal-twang

John Lennon…Dead on Arrival

Now, remember that I was only 13 years old. And although I was a Beatles fan (I grew up listening to the "Blue" and the "Red" Greatest Hits Records) the impact was not as emotionally devastating as you might think. It was more shocking than saddening and that whole week at school (I just started the 8th grade) was pretty much devoted to this aftermath. Front-page news stories, makeshift TV tributes, radio marathons, all night vigils in the park and commemorative magazines filled the air. I totally submerged myself into it...reading, listening and watching anything I could on Lennon and the Beatles. It had an event quality to it and judging by the subject, totally justified.

Years later, I watched a VH1 Behind the Music called, "The Last Days of John Lennon" which is self-explanatory. As I watched the various scenes of Lennon walking around Manhattan, talking with people, playing music, it started to become quite clear to me what an enormous loss this city, this country, this planet had suffered all those years ago on one of the grimmest nights in New York’s rich, proud history.

Would The Beatles ever get back together? Would he have "sold out" and become just another aged rocker burnout dancing for The Man? Would he have embraced the new art form of Rap that was rapidly growing in the Bronx? Would he have been politically active about Aids research in the 1980s? Corporate synergy in the 1990s? The Iraq War today? With his new found maturity, experience and perspective, would he have made the best music of his life?

All questions that can never be answered.

A tear comes to my eye thinking about it.

If anybody wants me, I’ll be at Strawberry Fields tonight, paying my respects to a man who, I believe, truly has earned it.

John Ono Lennon
1940 - 1980

R.I.P.

All We Are Saying...
Is Give Peace A Chance.
Larry

Who Will Save Your Soul?

11/30/2005

Not to sound like a mindless shill who dances a jig every time The Man puts a quarter in the slot, but I have to admit that the I-Pod, brought to us by Steve Jobs and his jolly crew of corporate goons, is one of the greatest pieces of media technology ever created.

For all of you who never saw one of these things, the I-Pod is a 4"x 2"x 1/2" device with a 20 GB memory capacity that primarily plays music. All you do is hook this thing up to your computer, load a CD and copy it to the I-Pod. That translates to about 5,000 songs at your fingertips. You could listen for hours without hearing the same song twice.

Needless to say this is a commuter’s best friend. My trip to and from work, either through the urine soaked tunnels or the absurdly congested streets of Manhattan and the Bronx is, usually, at least one hour. I am not exaggerating when I say that I am a much happier and healthier person in general because I am listening to the introspective musings of Lennon, Dylan or Reed instead of the sounds of garbled, mundane bickering, bellyaching and whining that commonly fills the air of the typical rush hour platforms, subway cars and buses of the MTA.

The sheer power that this device gives an individual is remarkable and, for me, somewhat incomprehensible. Hell, I remember a day in High School when I was so proud and thrilled that my new Walkman could actually play cassette tapes! But if it was only that I wouldn’t be writing this. There is something that is intangible that makes the Pod such a keeper.

One of its unique features is the one that Apple calls "the shuffle." In a nut shell, after you load up as much music as you want which, if you remember, can possibly be your whole CD collection, you can push the shuffle icon which will start playing songs in a completely random order. In effect, you have no idea what the next song is going to be but you are guaranteed that you are going to like it because you chose the "data base" yourself.

Believe me, that is totally cool.

You can even categorize your material so you can shuffle the music by "artist" or "album." For example, if you are in a Beatles mood push the Beatles icon and you are hearing nothing but Fab Four songs in no particular order. "She Loves You" followed by "Piggies" followed by "You Know My Name" followed by... You get the picture.

I normally just push the general shuffle button and listen to whatever plays from the roughly 600 songs I have loaded from my own collection. (I have a decent variety – from The Velvet Underground to Public Enemy to Tom Jones) The results of this mixing and matching of styles and eras can be interesting, jarring or sometimes even annoying. But once in awhile, if you are extremely lucky, one song leads to another which, for whatever reason, leads you to a profound insight.

A moment like that occurred this morning.

As I sat on the revolting number one train, barreling through the bowels of Washington Heights, an up-tempo Lou Reed song "New Sensations" was playing. It was from the live album "Perfect Night in London" which was recorded in the mid- nineties. It was a mostly acoustic set so it has a nice spontaneous flavor to it. The song plays in the classic Reed style of telling a story in very literal lyrics which creates a larger, much more general, overall image or mood. In this case, the story is one of dissatisfaction and freedom of the human spirit. His raspy, limited but still strong, baritone adds to the poignancy.

It is certainly a high quality track:

Click here to listen to “New Sensations”

As Lou raps up his performance with a furious guttural ad-lib (Another Reed trademark) “CRACK IT OPEN...CRACK THAT MOTHER FUCKER OPEN!!!) I was thoroughly satisfied. First of all it was a good cut. But more importantly, it gave my mind something to focus on besides all the crotches that were being shoved in my face as the sardine-can I was riding in started to fill up beyond reason.

Now here is where the shuffle comes in. The very next track that comes on is "I'm Sensitive" from Jewel's first album "Pieces of You".

Yes THAT Jewel

Now before you get your bloomers all knotted up in your nether-regions, I refuse to apologize for having this album on my I-Pod. I actually don't own it. One day at work, a friend of mine saw me weeping uncontrollably in my cube, completely inconsolable, because I had just found out that Cherkazoo And Other Stories (Digitally Remastered) was currently available at Amazon.com while I am still listening to the official 1990 "Late 19th Century Victrolla- Transfer" version of “Yer Blues.” I mean, c’mon, really. After learning about this situation, you must ask yourself, Do we honestly have the right to call ourselves civilized?


So, she went back to her desk to retrieve the Jewel CD. Upon her return she found me with my head slumped over a mess of tear soaked paperwork, crying out to the heavens, WHY? WHY? WHY? After she finally forced me to recognize that she had been standing outside my cube for 17 minutes, she lent me the disc because she was sure it would cheer me up. I thanked her for her concern but assured her that nothing was going to make me forget that at that very moment we were speaking, someone, somewhere, was purchasing Deep Purple Powerhouse (DIGITALLY REMASTERED) as I listened to “And Your Bird Can Sing” which has a sound quality that can only be described as “fecal-matterish.” She told me to try it. Afterall, what did I have to lose?

She was right.

By the time the fourth or fifth track of Jewel’s very affected vocals, singing of "PJs" "Faggots" and "Why were you so mean to me, Daddy?" my mouth was firmly agape, completely astonished at what I was hearing. I didn’t know very much about her and I vaguely remember her popular hits from back then (“You Were Meant For Me” “Who Will Save Your Soul?”) and I certainly never listened to it in its entirety, but I do remember she was in the vanguard of a whole crop of female singer/songwriters who were the bridge between Grunge (Nirvana/Pearl Jam) and teeny-bopper-whore-pop. (Britney Spears/Christina Aguilera) Sarah McGloughlin, Natalie Merchant and Joan Osborne are names that pop up off the top my head as having these introspective folk songs that usually had the interesting position of rejecting materialism while being totally self-absorbed. But that is just a surface view of a whole scene that easily deserves a whole essay of its own.

(Full Disclosure: At the time these singers were popular 1995-1999(?) I really didn't give a damn about contemporary pop music and, admittedly, was probably out of touch, so my opinion is probably even more skewed than it normally would be.)

But after listening to this album now I can and will say that I think it is spectacularly bad...and I recommend that you give it a try too.

Because remember, the opposite of love is not hate...but indifference.

But let me get back to my epiphany because (A) I do not want to do a full "review" of the whole album, which it definitely warrants, and (B) I think she is actually a very talented performer and I do not want to sound like I am just completely bashing her. With that being said, her work feels like it is missing something.

As I mentioned before, the song that came on directly after "New Sensations" was "I'm Sensitive." Believe it or not, the two tracks had several similar components, which, I believe, invites comparison.

Click here to listen to “I’m Sensitive”

For example, compare these two verses:

From Jewel

I was thinking
That I might fly today
Just to disprove
All the things you say
It doesn't take a talent to be mean
Your words can crush things that are unseen
So please be careful with me
I'm sensitive
And I'd like to stay that way.

From Lou Reed

I want the benefit of a timeless muse
I want to get rid of all my negative views
And get rid of all those people
Who are always such a down

It’s easy enough to say what’s wrong
That’s not what I want to hear all night long
Some people are like a human Toulinol

New sensation...
I want a new sensation

They are both saying pretty much the same thing. Whomever they are talking to is obviously a negative influence in their lives and they want to change that. But listen to the difference in tone. The first verse is dealing from weakness, sounding somewhat pathetic while Reed’s declaration has strength, “demanding” not “asking” for a change in the status quo.

And what about these two stanzas?

Jewel

You always tell me
That it is impossible
To be respected
And be a girl
Why's it gotta be so complicated?
Why you gotta tell me if I'm hated?
So please be careful with me
I'm sensitive
And I'd like to stay that way.

Lou

I don’t like guilt, be it stoned or stupid
Drunk and disorderly, I ain’t no cupid
Two years ago today I was arrested on Christmas Eve

I want to walk, baby, not be carried
I don’t want to give it up
Maybe I’m not meant to be married
You know I’m no dog you tie up and put in a parked car

New sensation...
I want a new sensation

Do you see what I mean? It is almost as if they are two lovers talking with each other. They both want and feel the same thing, but are expressing it from opposite sides of the spectrum.

I think this explains the election of George W Bush.

I remember one time in the 1990s watching a VH1 “Behind the Music” about Grand Funk Railroad. For those of you who never even heard of this power trio from Flint, Michigan, believe it or not, at one time they were a HUGE rock group who sold millions of records. In fact, they were the second rock act to sell out Shea Stadium (I believe that was 1970) in a shorter amount of time than the Beatles took five years earlier. But they are pretty much forgotten and I certainly did not know much about them so that hour long show on VH1 was very interesting to me.

There was one scene that stuck out to me. It was a film clip from one of their concerts playing their most famous song “We’re an American Band.” It was just a basic stage shot with a guitarist playing those famous hard chords and the drummer pounding a thunderous steady beat. I think even the bassist was pulling a mouth open, over emphasized plucking pose.

What struck me about this pretty standard clip was the attitude. The guitar player had no shirt on, hair down to his ass and ultra tight pants which left nothing to the imagination. On each downstroke he posed with his legs apart, slightly bent, a serious facial and head jerking back and forth causing his long blonde mane to whip up and down. The drummer had an outrageous afro and pork chop sideburns, sweating profusely, pounding out such enlightened lyrics as “Four young chiquitas in Omaha,” and “We proceeded to tear that hotel down.” This was the epitome of pure unadulterated masculine strength and aggression.

It was refreshing.

The first thing I thought, after viewing that spectacle, was that at one time people thought this was cool. I thought of the music that were popular around the time I was viewing the show and the first one that came to mind was an extremely popular song by the Counting Crows called “Mr. Jones.” I liked the song myself but listen to the lyrics. It is an ode to indecisiveness.

All the other artists I mentioned earlier have that same quality to them. This music represents the shift that our society took in the 1990s, probably due to the economic high we were on. People became complacent and assumed that the gains made in civil rights, personal freedom and social dignity were set in stone and irreversible. So it was no longer necessary to show resolve and spiral into unreasonable self pity or, worse, self absorbed arrogance.

With several years of completely wishy-washy type thought, art and attitude, is it any wonder that people would vote for a mythic cowboy? Isn’t it more appealing to follow somebody who knows he is right, projects a certain confidence and a ridiculously simplistic view of the world rather than somebody who seems to not even know who they are?

Even if you know that it is wrong?

Back to the future.

In other words, I can not picture Don Brewer ever singing, “Believe in me…because I don’t believe in anything.”








Equivocation is probably the true nature of the world.
Just watch your back.
Larry