Five musicians you can see and at least ten more that are forever invisible.
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There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
by Shel Silverstein
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
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Thanks for this. I’ve had all I can take of what the sites I check are noting. It’s awful out there, which is why I wind up here.
I saw the Paul Winter Consort in 1991(?). They were playing in Paoli PA. At a high school It was a bit of magic.
Gawd how I love my Klipsch… Thanks Gerard!
Saw the Paul Winter Consort in the 90’s at Fountain St Church in Grand Rapids MI, a gorgeous large classic structure, almost cathedral-like. During a pause Paul wandered in darkness all the way around to the balcony facing the chancel. Like I said, a large church.
As his part resumed that ghostly, tremelo-less clarinet wafted up seeming from nowhere, yards and yards from the stage, from the end of the knave. Then the light came up and there he was.
Icarus was sort of a theme song of the more connected, optimistic, less divided times of 40 years ago. Oregon’s version became the classic and Towner’s added more virtuosity. Burton played it on the vibes.
We can’t make music like that anymore – progressivism has bred evil and traditional America has cartooned itself so badly it’s unrecognizable. Both wail pretense and narcissism. That and the song are heartbreaking in retrospect.
https://youtu.be/jb_DdOygfmk
https://youtu.be/38k2W5UFyjM
https://youtu.be/Cw13k3TIDF4