Friday, 31 July 2020

And looking back down at me

Sometimes, when I'm listening to things that Spotify thinks I'll like, I think I could do with fewer covers. I do like interpretations of familiar songs, mind, but how many versions of "I Shall Be Released" do I need to hear? 

And then there was last week when I found myself seated at the computer, close to tears.

Allen Toussaint died in 2015, not long after he recorded this cover of "American Tune" by Paul Simon -- which isn't actually an American tune; Simon adapted it from "O Sacred Head Now Wounded", which is a translation of the German hymn O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden, which was made famous by JS Bach's arrangement, and the tune of which is borrowed from a 17th century German love song.  

No matter.  I've always loved the song, but Toussaint brings a whole new clarity to it, every word crystal clear:

 
It's a song written in the seventies, around the time of Watergate, which keeps resurfacing and becoming even more poignant.

Many's the time I've been mistaken, and many times confused. 
Yes, and often felt forsaken, and certainly misused. 
But I'm all right; I'm all right.
I'm just weary to my bones. 
Still, you don't expect to be bright and bon vivant, 
So far away from home, so far away from home. 

I don't know a soul who's not been battered. 
I don't have a friend who feels at ease. 
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered or driven to its knees. 
But it's all right; it's all right. 
We've lived so well so long. 
Still, when I think of the road we're traveling on, I wonder what went wrong. 
I can't help but wonder what went wrong. 

And I dreamed I was dying. 
Dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly, and, looking back down at me, smiled reassuringly. 
And I dreamed I was flying. 
And high up above, my eyes could clearly see the Statue of Liberty, sailing away to sea. 
And I dreamed I was flying. 

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower. 
We come on the ship that sailed the moon. 
We come in the age's most uncertain hour, and sing an American tune. 
But it's all right; it's all right, all right, 
You can't be forever blessed. 
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day, and I'm trying to get some rest; 
That's all I'm trying, to get some rest.
Wailed by at No comments:
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)