June 27, 2015

Boomer Anthems: A Salty Dog (Live in Denmark 2006)

'All hands on deck, we've run afloat!' I heard the captain cry
'Explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave alive!'
Across the straits, around the Horn: how far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left alive.

We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die.
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye.
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call,
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all.

We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore.
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy.
How many moons and many Junes have passed since we made land?
A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand.

- Procol Harum

Posted by gerardvanderleun at June 27, 2015 1:33 PM
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"It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood." -- Karl Popper N.B.: Comments are moderated and may not appear immediately. Comments that exceed the obscenity or stupidity limits will be either edited or expunged.

The Salvador Dali of the Right-wing Blogs indeed!

I didn't realize a 60's rock group, such as Procol Harum could actually be considered Poetic - at least by my humble standards.

Very nice.

Posted by: cond0011 at June 27, 2015 2:36 PM

Okay, the 'Singing Giraffe' video was replaced with a very nice corresponding video to hte poetry.

I take-back the top sentence I wrote.

For now! :D

Posted by: cond0011 at June 27, 2015 2:44 PM

A classic piece from one of my "desert island" discs. Mark Brzezicki absolutely nailed B.J. Wilson's drum arrangement there. Thanks yet again for the memories, Gerard.

Posted by: Mal at June 27, 2015 3:35 PM

In honor of the "supreme court" (capitalization omitted in derision) gay marriage decision, this boomer anthen:

TRAFFIC - THE LOW SPARK OF HIGH-HEELED BOYS - The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys (1971) HiDef
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEZH0t5Yozw

On a related note of Owned Politicians (ala justice roberts), Dennis Hastert's recent notoriety explains a lot about how a back-bencher like him became Speaker Of The House.

Surely we all realize by now that no one ascends to the supreme court without confirmation of the corrupt senate. Oh 17th Amendment, what have you done to us?

Bah

Posted by: Bah at June 27, 2015 6:35 PM

Now you've done it Gerard. I'll have to keep my browser open on your blog. Great performance of a classic. Dare say it's better than the studio version.

Posted by: brinster at June 27, 2015 7:12 PM

Bah: I love that song and album. I actually walked 5 miles in a snowstorm to buy it the day it came out.

One I'd nominate, though most may not have heard it, is "On the Border" by Al Stewart. It is a track on "The Year of the Cat" album which has one of the best album covers ever, IMHO.

The words are quite relevant for today's world.


"The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails among the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver on the border

On my wall the colours of the maps are running
From Africa the winds they talk of changes coming
The torches flare up in the night
The hand that sets the farms alight
Has spread the word to those who're waiting on the border

In the village where I grew up
Nothing seems the same
Still you never see the change from day to day
And no-one notices the customs slip away

Late last night the rain was knocking at my window
I moved across the darkened room and in the lampglow
I thought I saw down in the street
The spirit of the century
Telling us that we're all standing on the border

In the islands where I grew up
Nothing seems the same
It's just the patterns that remain
An empty shell
But there's a strangeness in the air you feel too well

The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails among the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver on the border
On the border
On the border
On the border"

Posted by: Nahanni at June 28, 2015 4:15 AM

I didn't know Procol Harum had enough songs to make an album. They were one-hit wonders back where I came from.
Of course, we didn't have to ingest psychotropic drugs to enjoy music.
A box of beer, some karfutie chips and away we go.

My uncle Letsgo "Big Bad Baron of Bantams" Lozko swore that polka music got the hens to lay more eggs. With or without the beer.

Posted by: chasmatic at June 28, 2015 6:54 AM

I still can't get past what they did to those poor girls in Nigeria.

Posted by: Randy at June 28, 2015 7:24 AM

And it's Randy for the win.

Posted by: vanderleun at June 28, 2015 11:30 AM

Silent Generation Anthem: Salty Dog Blues (Flatt & Scruggs edition):

Standin' on the corner with the low down blues
A great big hole in the bottom of my shoes
Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Let me be your Salty Dog
Or I won't be your man at all
Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Look here Sal, I know you
Run down stockin' and a worn out shoe
Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Let me be your Salty Dog
Or I won't be your man at all
Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Down in the wildwood sittin' on a log
Finger on the trigger and eye on the hog
Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Let me be your Salty Dog
Or I won't be your man at all
Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Pulled the trigger and the gun let go
Shot fell over in Mexico
Honey, let me be you Salty Dog

Let me be your Salty Dog
Or I won't be your man at all
Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Let me be your Salty Dog
Or I won't be your man at all
Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Posted by: BillH at June 28, 2015 1:23 PM

I like their cover of "Eight Miles High"

Posted by: chasmatic at July 1, 2015 6:07 AM

It’s the Sun

When I was in grade school, fourth grade, we had show and tell. This one kid, his clothes never fit him well, I think it was hand-me-downs from the Sally Ann, he made this model of the Solar System. He used a piece of cardboard with nine concentric circles drawn on with a magic marker. He took toothpicks and put one on each ring with a Styrofoam ball on ‘em. Painted different colors, mars was red, earth green, the others shades of gray or blue. He tried to make the rings of Saturn with a piece of cellophane, squished it down on the ball, but it looked like a sombrero.
His punch line was when one of the students asked
“What was that big yellow ball in the middle?”
Well he puffed up like he was giving us the keys to the kingdom and said
“It’s the Sun. That big yellow ball in the middle? It’s the sun”.
OK, so my scale model of the Eiffel Tower made with popsicle sticks and Elmer’s Glue didn’t have the presentation, the patter that went with it. This kid won first place, natch.
So, on to next year, fifth grade. Same show and tell format, I guess the teachers figured let the kids do all the work while they sat in the back row updating their resumes. And here comes this kid, different clothes but you could tell it was him. We all, kept looking at his feet, this guy would sometimes come to school with one boot and one shoe. And he had that by now banged up piece of cardboard with, uh huh, the Solar System on it. And, yeah, the big yellow ball in the middle. The sun. he didn’t win anything this year but he added to his spiel by citing statistics (the miles away from the Sun they were.) he did get Mercury wrong, he said it was to close to measure but he reckoned maybe seventy, eighty miles was about right. He closed his presentation with the rhetorical question “Know what that big yellow ball in the middle is? It’s the Sun. that yellow ball? It’s the Sun.
OK sixth grade. Other schools the kids went to junior high but we were in a small town so we had sixth grade, seventh, eighth.
Here comes show and tell and this kid, Jimmy, brought in the same model of the Solar System, looking decidedly ratty by now, I think we smelled cat piss on a corner of it and some of the planets, er, balls didn’t perch do good on the toothpicks.
“You see that big yellow ball in the middle? It’s the Sun. the Sun. That big yellow ball in the middle? The Sun.
He got through eighth grade somehow and we lost track of him but it was rumored he went in the Army. One day a couple years later I saw him, he was working on a garbage truck for our town. Not the driver, he was the guy walked along side, hoisting the cans into the back of the truck. He got a kick out of throwing the lever, sent the compacting ram in on all the bags and loose garbage. It’s the sun I wanted to shout at him, but nah, he looked happy.

Posted by: chasmatic at July 1, 2015 11:02 PM