For my friend from Brantford

July 30, 2010

The Band was a band’s band.

Their music instructor was their keyboardist Garth Hudson.

The Last Waltz, 1976


Brothers

October 5, 2008

For me, it always started at about 3:25, here in 1971. But I can get behind Clapton (2002) and Prince (2004), too.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps, George Harrison

I look at you all see the love there that’s sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it need sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know why nobody told you
how to unfold your love
I don’t know how someone controlled you
they bought and sold you

I look at the world and I notice it’s turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know how you were diverted
no one alerted you
I don’t know how you were inverted
you were perverted too

I look at you all see the love there that’s sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at you all
Still my guitar gently weeps


Knows there’s no success like failure, Failure’s no success at all

September 2, 2008

I was reminded recently while reading about losers that Bob Dylan often warned about how much some money can cost.

Ambition is okay as long as you remember that you can fail at something without re-defining yourself as a loser. Franchising tends to rub out identity, stigmatize and  then silence people.

People think I hate franchising but it is the exact opposite (which is what you come to expect nearing the big 5Oh). I a sense, my mistress is the way franchising was; the way the Titans treated each other.

  • There are people that remember. I am alone but not lonely.
  • Sometimes the only way to say it is through verse and melody.

Love Minus Zero/No Limit, Bob Dylan

My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
Doesn’t have to say she’s faithful,
Yet she’s true, like ice, or fire.

People carry roses,
Make promises by the hour,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can’t buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk over situations,
Read books and repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.

Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
Knows there’s no success like failure,
And that failure’s no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles,
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even a pawn must hold a grudge.

Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she doesn’t bother,
She knows not to argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers’ nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.

The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she’s like some raven,
At my window with a broken wing.


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