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[daveykid]

A Deeper Look into Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the U.S.A."

I'm not sure how much specifically you know about this album, possibly aside from the album's title track. (Which so happens to be the ultimate embodiment of the theme of this deeper look, and quite likely not so unintentionally.)

First, the obvious side.

This record is the best seller for Bruce & his band at an estimated 30 million units. It's also estimated to be the 25th top-selling album of all time. It had seven singles in the Billboard Top Ten from June 1984 to February of 1986. Seven Top 10s out of the twelve total tracks on the album - and a string of hits that lasted for over twenty-one months. (For a musical 'frame of reference', an album we know intimately, Drake's Scorpion had eight singles that reached Billboard's Top 10 list, but hung around a total of only eight months. Obviously, time, trend, and music consumption moves at a much different pace these days so it's not a direct comparison but again just a frame for reference.) The title track as a single is certified Gold status, and the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America) placed the song 59th out of 365 for their Songs of the Century list. (The list is based upon "promoting a better understanding of America's musical and cultural heritage." In the top twenty of this list are songs like "Over the Rainbow", "White Christmas", "Take Me out to the Ball Game", "Stars and Stripes Forever", and "God Bless America". Very different than a song like "Born in the U.S.A.") We today, still hear classic rock and classic hits stations playing "Born in the U.S.A" and "Dancing in the Dark" seemingly on a once-every-hour basis.

And now to the dark side. 

If you take the catchy & fun-loving choruses, the mostly-upbeat instrumentation, the seemingly pridefully patriotic title of the album and its' greatest hit, and ignore the rest - the sales, the awards, and the recognition that this is one of America's most glory-freedom-working man-red, white, and blue-centric albums of all time makes a lot of sense. However, if you discard the album cover, mute the comfortable sounds of the Cougar-Mellencamp style 80s Americana-Rock & Roll, and read the lyrics - then you might discover this album to be one of the greatest misunderstandings in pop music recordings.

From here, I'll just let selections from Springsteen's lyrics speak for themselves. I limit the following to selections, not to try to take away from a 'Heartland-Americana' message, but simply because some of the songs are actually just somewhat silly love songs, and their lyrics don't take either side of my 'argument'.

We'll start with the title track of the album and the first song on the album.

"Born in the U.S.A"

Born down in a dead man's town The first kick I took was when I hit the ground End up like a dog that's been beat too much 'Til you spend half your life just covering up

Born in the U.S.A I was born in the U.S.A I was born in the U.S.A Born in the U.S.A

Got in a little hometown jam So they put a rifle in my hand Sent me off to a foreign land To go and kill the yellow man

Born in the U.S.A I was born in the U.S.A I was born in the U.S.A I was born in the U.S.A

Come back home to the refinery Hiring man said "son if it was up to me" Went down to see my V.A. man He said "son, don't you understand"

I had a brother at Khe Sanh fighting off the Viet Cong They're still there, he's all gone He had a woman he loved in Saigon I got a picture of him in her arms now

Down in the shadow of the penitentiary Out by the gas fires of the refinery I'm ten years burning down the road Nowhere to run ain't got nowhere to go Born in the U.S.A I was born in the U.S.A Born in the U.S.A  

Okay, actually those are the EXACT lyrics for the ENTIRE song without any REDUCTIONS. Holy shit. That's heavier & more critical than even I knew. Enough said - on to track two.

"Cover Me"

The times are tough now, just getting tougher This whole world is rough, it's just getting rougher Cover me, come on baby, cover me Well I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me

Now promise me baby you won't let them find us Hold me in your arms, let's let our love blind us Cover me, shut the door and cover me I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me

Outside's the rain, the driving snow I can hear the wild wind blowing Turn out the light, bolt the door I ain't going out there no more

This whole world is out there just trying to score I've seen enough I don't wanna see any more, Cover me, come on in and cover me I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me

Outside's the rain, the driving snow I can hear the wild wind blowing Turn out the light, bolt the door I ain't going out there no more

Here the lyrics aren't specifically anti-government, US-critical, etc., but they certainly aren't happy lyrics. These words are expressing heavy depression, intense anxiety, and forlorn frustration. The narrator is searching for a romantic partner to willfully blind himself and be ignorant and shielded from the world outside.

"Darlington County"

Driving into Darlington County Me and Wayne on the Fourth of July Driving into Darlington County Looking for some work on the county line

We drove down from New York City Where the girls are pretty but they just want to know your name Driving into Darlington City Got a union connection with an uncle of Wayne's

We drove eight hundred miles without seeing a cop We got rock and roll music blasting off the T-top, singing

Little girl sitting in the window Ain't seen my buddy in seven days, play it boys County man tells me the same thing He don't work and he don't get paid

Little girl you're so young and pretty Walk with me and you can have your way And we'll leave this Darlington City For a ride down that Dixie Highway

Driving out of Darlington County Eyes seen the glory of the coming of the Lord Driving out of Darlington County Seen Wayne handcuffed to the bumper of a state trooper's Ford

This song is probably the most jingle-jangle, pop-friendly tune on the record, but again, the lyrics tell a different story. And also nothing really political here, but it is a story of two somewhat morally decrepit, sleazy guys who, even though they are unemployed and looking for work, are pretending to have a lot of money in order to get with pretty girls. The narrator even describes her as a 'little girl' who is 'so young and pretty'. The listener can assume that the narrator leaves town with this girl and leaves his buddy stranded, only to see him getting arrested by a state trooper. There's nothing to be proud of in this story.

"Working on the Highway"

I work for the county out on ninety five All day I hold a red flag and watch the traffic pass me by In my head I keep a picture of a pretty little miss Someday, mister, I'm gonna lead a better life than this

Working on the highway, laying down the blacktop Working on the highway, all day long I don't stop Working on the highway, blasting through the bedrock Working on the highway, working on the highway

I met her at a dance down at the union hall She was standing with her brothers, back up against the wall Sometimes we'd go walking down the Union tracks One day I looked straight at her and she looked straight back

I saved up my money and I put it all away I went to see her daddy but we didn't have much to say "Son, can't you see that she's just a little girl She don't know nothing about this cruel, cruel world" We lit out down to Florida, we got along all right One day her brothers came and got her and they took me in a black-and-white The prosecutor kept the promise that he made on that day And the judge got mad and he put me straight away I wake up every morning to the work bell clang Me and the warden go swinging on the Charlotte County road gang I'm

Working on the highway, laying down the blacktop Working on the highway, all day long I don't stop Working on the highway, blasting through the bedrock Working on the highway, working on the highway

This is another song that seems to be just an upbeat, pure-pride working man's Americana ballad about hard work and the simple life and simple pleasures. Look closer and we see the story unfolds in another dark direction. The narrator is a highway construction worker who's got nothing better to do during his workday than to fantasize about a sexy girl. He eventually meets someone that he feels fits that description. They like each other. They quickly elope to Florida. Her brothers come and get her and take her back home. Turns out she was not even the age of legal consent, sending him to prison for statutory rape where he's forced into manual labor where, you guessed it, he's working on the highway. Not much joy here. No pride to be found. Nothing to be proud of.

"Downbound Train"

I had a job, I had a girl I had something going, mister, in this world I got laid off down at the lumber yard Our love went bad, times got hard Now I work down at the car wash Where all it ever does is rain Don't you feel like you're a rider on a downbound train She just said, "Joe, I gotta go We had it once, we ain't got it anymore" She packed her bags, left me behind She bought a ticket on the Central Line Nights as I sleep, I hear that whistle whining I feel her kiss in the misty rain And I feel like I'm a rider on a downbound train

Last night I heard your voice You were crying, crying, you were so alone You said your love had never died You were waiting for me at home Put on my jacket, I ran through the woods I ran till I thought my chest would explode There in the clearing, beyond the highway In the moonlight, our wedding house shone I rushed through the yard I burst through the front door, my head pounding hard Up the stairs I climbed The room was dark, our bed was empty Then I heard that long whistle whine And I dropped to my knees, hung my head and cried Now I swing a sledge hammer on a railroad gang Knocking down them cross ties, working in the rain Now, don't it feel like you're a rider on a downbound train  

Shit. Another song that ends with the narrator getting arrested for a seemingly-honest act of desperation. There's nothing from the lyrics that need elaboration. Guy gets laid-off from a low-skill, low-education job. Marriage suffers. Woman leaves. Man gets an even shittier job. Man dwells on his broken heart and becomes delusional. Man breaks into either his old home which he doesn't own anymore or to the home where his ex-wife lives. Either way he ends up doing forced labor in prison.

"I'm on Fire"

Hey little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go away and leave you all alone? Mhmm I got a bad desire Oh oh oh, I'm on fire Tell me now, baby, is he good to you? And can he do to you the things that I do? Oh no I can take you higher Oh oh oh, I'm on fire Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby Edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley Through the middle of my skull At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet And a freight train running through the middle of my head Only you can cool my desire

Another song that has nothing to be happy about. I won't even touch the 'hey little girl, is your daddy home?' part, because that could either be the narrator's way of talking sexy to a woman who already has a man, or it could be taken literally: a pedophile trying to have sex with a non-adult girl. The last two verses of the song are again describing severe mental and emotional instability. The narrator feels like he's been cut through the middle of his mind with a long, but dull knife. He also frequently wakes up in sweat and feels like a freight train is running through his mind. This is definitely not a love song, and there is nothing to be happy or encouraged about here. I'll skip "No Surrender" because though that is another song of run-out-of-options desperation, it is the most hopeful and resilient story on the album, which doesn't say much.

"Bobby Jean"

Well, I came to your house the other day Your mother said you went away She said there was nothing that I could have done There was nothing nobody could say Me and you, we've known each other ever since we were sixteen I wished I could have known I wished I could have called you Just to say goodbye, Bobby Jean Now, you hung with me when all the others Turned away, turned up their nose We liked the same music, we liked the same bands We liked the same clothes We told each other that we were the wildest The wildest things we'd ever seen Now I wished you would have told me I wished I could have talked to you Just to say goodbye, Bobby Jean Now, we went walking in the rain, Talking about the pain that from the world we hid Now there ain't nobody, nowhere, nohow Gonna ever understand me the way you did Maybe you'll be out there on that road somewhere In some bus or train traveling along In some motel room there'll be a radio playing And you'll hear me sing this song Well, if you do, you'll know I'm thinking of you And all the miles in between And I'm just calling you one last time Not to change your mind, but just to say I miss you, baby Good luck, goodbye, Bobby Jean

This is another song of broken relationships, inevitable endings, and filled with regret. The narrator loses the only person he feels he could express himself to, the only person who truly understood him - and it seems obvious to the reader that this connection and love was unreciprocated because he didn't even know she was leaving, let alone gone. Another song of disappointment and sadness. The music is seemingly light-hearted with a doo-wop, Jersey boardwalk kinda sound.

"I'm Goin' Down"

We sit in the car outside your house I can feel the heat coming 'round I go to put my arm around you And you give me a look like I'm way out of bounds Well you let out one of your bored sighs Well lately when I look into your eyes Down, down, down, down I'm goin down, down, down, down I'm goin down, down, down, down I'm goin down, down, down, down We get dressed up and we go out, baby, for the night We come home early burning, burning, burning in some fire fight I'm sick and tired of you setting me up yeah Setting me up just to knock-a knock-a knock-a me down Down, down, down, down I'm goin down, down, down, down I'm goin down, down, down, down I'm goin down, down, down, down, hey now I pull you close now baby but when we kiss I can feel a doubt I remember back when we started My kisses used to turn you inside out I used to drive you to work in the morning Friday night I'd drive you all around You used to love to drive me wild yeah But lately girl you get your kicks from just driving me down

And yet another about the dying embers of a love soon to be lost. Simply put, it's a couple who's been together for quite some time, and it's growing boring, regular, even poisonous.

"Glory Days" Now I think I'm going down to the well tonight And I'm going to drink till I get my fill And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it But I probably will Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture A little of the glory of, well time slips away And leaves you with nothing mister but Boring stories of glory days

I employ only the last verse here to encapsulate the overall meaning of the song. The story features an ex-great high school baseball player, a formerly popular talk-of-the-town beauty, and (assumedly) the narrator's father who's recently been laid-off and can't find work anywhere else. The common denominator the three characters share is their sadness, their brokenness, their strong nostalgia, and their fruitless desire to be young again.

"Dancing in the Dark" I get up in the evening And I ain't got nothing to say I come home in the morning I go to bed feeling the same way I ain't nothing but tired Man I'm just tired and bored with myself Hey there baby, I could use just a little help You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancing in the dark Message keeps getting clearer Radio's on and I'm moving 'round the place I check my look in the mirror I want to change my clothes, my hair, my face Man I ain't getting nowhere I'm just living in a dump like this There's something happening somewhere Baby I just know that there is You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancing in the dark You sit around getting older There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me I'll shake this world off my shoulders Come on baby this laugh's on me Stay on the streets of this town And they'll be carving you up alright They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby I'm just about starving tonight I'm dying for some action I'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now baby gimme just one look 

This the second most successful and well-known song and also the second most often misunderstood song from the album. Most folks tend to just focus on that strong, driving backbeat and the cute little dancing chorus. Read these lyrics and we have the story of ANOTHER unskilled, undereducated, lonely and isolated man who is working third-shift, going through a monotonous depression, and desperately reaching out for any kind of emotional & physical connection. There is no resolution that gives us a happy ending. The 'baby' referred to throughout the song never speaks, is never addressed, doesn't have a name, and the reader has no way of knowing if this person even exists. It's just a bare and desperate man appealing to the world for anyone.

"My Hometown" I was eight years old and running with a dime in my hand Into the bus stop to pick up a paper for my old man I'd sit on his lap in that big old Buick and steer as we drove through town He'd tousle my hair and say son take a good look around This is your hometown This is your hometown This is your hometown This is your hometown In '65 tension was running high at my high school There was a lot of fights between the black and white There was nothing you could do Two cars at a light on a Saturday night in the back seat there was a gun Words were passed in a shotgun blast Troubled times had come To my hometown My hometown My hometown My hometown Now Main Street's whitewashed windows and vacant stores Seems like there ain't nobody wants to come down here no more They're closing down the textile mill across the railroad tracks Foreman says these jobs are going boys and they ain't coming back To your hometown Your hometown Your hometown Your hometown Last night me and Kate we laid in bed Talking about getting out Packing up our bags maybe heading south I'm thirty five we got a boy of our own now Last night I sat him up behind the wheel and said son take a good look around This is your hometown

Thought this one was going to be different? You thought Bruce wouldn't... couldn't let us watch the record stop spinning in its' final seconds and send us off into the night in darkness, desperation, gloom, regret, heartbreak, inevitable sadness, etc. etc.? You were hoping for a shot of love or light or hope or anything that will make us glad and happy about life and the world we live in? Well, you were wrong and embarrassingly naive for hoping. This song is a saddened look at the narrator's hometown. Violent and unstable relationships between black and white residents fueled by racial tension and inequality. Someone was murdered in the heat of this friction which caused an economic and cultural downward spiral to which the narrator's only answer is to move himself and his family away. The story ends in the same way it began, but not so proudly and optimistically - the narrator offers his son one last look behind the wheel at his old hometown. No pride. No resolution. No tribalism, no nationalism, no patriotism. No union pride nor worker's pride nor industry pride. Just a river slowly drying up. Just individuals and communities growing more desperate as their already-small window continues its' shrinking.

And that is a lyrical examination of literally EVERY song on the album whose title track the RIAA says proudly promotes a better understanding of America's musical and cultural heritage among songs like "Over the Rainbow", "White Christmas", "Take Me out to the Ball Game", "Stars and Stripes Forever", and "God Bless America". It looks like what we've got here is a failure to communicate.

[daveykid]

Song for the Day - “When I Paint My Masterpiece”

Woke up this morn to this one beatin' around my head.

Written and released by Bob Dylan, but as often they did, The Band featuring the great vocals of drummer Levon Helm, made it their own, and his own - it's the definitive version of the song. But Dylan's vague lyricism and off-the-wall content & structure make the song what it is. I constantly have to challenge myself to listen attentively to the lyrics and their structure to find out what the fuck Dylan is actually talking about (which is a regular ordeal for most Dylan songs).

And I challenge you to do the same.

Now for a moment let's sidestep the attempt of explication... let's just explore the "feel" of the song in conjunction with the song's title, which is what really makes this one of my favorite and more memorable Dylan tunes. The flashings of the lyrical content that the listener may catch upon first listen set to that beauteous prominent accordion setting the phrasing and timing of the song can easily whisk the listener away to a place imagined or remembered: hillsides, cliffs, ancient cities, fields of rock & verdure, Grecian Isles, nighttime in Rome... And the title which is the refrain... provides the listener (or at least the more cyclically, if not naively optimistic of us) the idea that as the lyric says on the final refrain, "But someday everything is gonna be different, when I paint my masterpiece." Although the narrator never gets to the point of an actual masterpiece or even onto the topic of the work, diligence, and productivity to produce that masterpiece, his easy confidence & assuredness that it's only a matter of time is infectious & inspiring - allowing the desk-bound listener to gaze out the window in wonder & contemplative confidence that she, he, or we too will 'paint our masterpiece' - it's only a matter of time. Although the last paragraph was really the bulk of my feeling and "point", I'll offer one more tidbit of personal connection to the song in this final statement. One of Dylan's more central themes (especially in the late '60s to late ‘70s) is the idea of time. Time as a cycle, a repetitive concept rather than linear, as is most commonly conceived in most parts of the "Western" world. He wrote another song around this time that the Band also performed called "This Wheel's on Fire" which similarly combines folkloric material with an unpolished "backwoods" presentation of highly philosophic and esoteric concepts. However, in "Wheel's on Fire", the cycle like the title infers, is an inferno. The cycle is in chaos and seemingly spinning out of control which surely will have disastrous consequences.

To return to the topic at hand however, the wheel or the cycle is celebrated and embraced in this song. The narrator himself falls in and out of present time, getting lost in the preserved antiquity of the 'ancient footsteps' of Rome, 'dodging lions' in the Coliseum, 'train wheels running through the back of his memory', sailing around the world in a dirty gondola. But then immediately the narrator bluntly juxtaposes these archaic callbacks with blatantly modern devices: a hotel room, an unattached date with a freewheeling young woman, train wheels, the land of Coca-Cola, and an abrasive plane ride to Brussels. With this back-and-forth, the listener like the narrator is also getting lost somewhere in between the past and the present, or as Dylan writes "You can almost think that you're seeing double."

[daveykid]

From Outside of Mona Lisa Restaurant, Across the Street

Some day, I will come here.

at night, candles glowing, 

I see myself and You, 

something playing - maybe Frank, Dean, or Tony

        (the holy vocal heartswells of my sentimental youth.)

We'll have it all, 

like we're married and adults, 

like our grandparents used to do:

         three courses, and wine!

But not just to get drunk this time, 

to love, to celebrate, to sip slowly,

         to slip lowly

my hand beneath the checkered tabletop

         upon your strong and steady leg, 

I'll even wear a tie for you, 

like our grandparents used to do.

Maybe a sly smile, 

or an unflinching honest infinite stare. 

I'm not sure, I've never been there before - 

Some day, I will come here. 

[daveykid]

stories from a backpack: catching the midnight bus outta the fog

(a wednesday, sometime in early june - san francisco)

"excuse me sir," I called out over the street noise, "do you know where the greyhound station is... down two blocks, take a left, then keep going straight?" the slightly busy construction worker didn't sound too confident but I took his word anyway. "you're sure, yea? ok. thanks a lot man, have a good one buddy." we rushed with backpacks bobbing wildly toward the direction of his gloved point before the hard-hatted man could even spit his reply.

no time to waste, gotta keep goin', gotta keep movin'!

we knew we were in the general vicinity of the bus station. after the usual meal of starbucks small coffee and an everything bagel at the pleaded for employee price, our barista friends gave us a ballparked location. they said it was somewhere tucked in near market, or 2nd, or 1st - one of those goddamn numbered streets close to the bay, but we didn't know exactly where. now all was we knew was that the southbound split at 9 at night and it was 8:53, and we didn't want to spend another night homeless in cold shrouded san francisco fog.

pete and I planned to go to big sur with our newfound friend erika, who lived in alameda with her folks and who the night previous so kindly let us sleep in a spare bedroom. the only thing was that she was leaving the City for big sur friday morning and it was only wednesday night, and she wasn't able to host us any longer. so we got the idea that traveling south as close to big sur as ol' mister greyhound would take us would be a whole helluva lot better than walking around like sleepless rucksacked streetghosts in san fran. the only trick was we had to catch the bus first.

"come on, man... let's pick it up. we gotta start running if we wanna make it!" I told pete although he already knew the same. "we got about five minutes before they leave, and if we don't make it, we'll be sleepin' out here again brother, that's guaranteed." i was hoping my words would both inspire us to move faster and somehow freeze time until we were in those cushioned chairs heading south. we didn't dare speak of the truth that we didn't even know what city we were going to, or that we haven't even bought tickets, or that we had five minutes until departure and we were still running blindly to the directions of an unconfident construction worker. 

finally we saw the shining lights of the station and sprinted in. no line - thank god. someone at the counter - thank god. "can we buy a ticket for the nine o'clock south?" yes. use the machine - thank god. we made fast on the machine typing in information, selecting cities, inserting debits and then waited. 'denied' read the machine, 'please see a greyhound associate for more assistance.' "shit" said I. "shit" said pete. we'd basically given up. the young woman told us we couldn't purchase our tickets through the machine because it didn't sell them within ten minutes of a departure. but somehow the slightly older man at the counter overheard us and sold us the tickets anyway, and at this time it was two or three minutes after 9. I instantly remembered the forty-something balded black man from two years prior, when my cousin and I arrived at the very same station to begin our massive 600-mile bike trip only to find that greyhound had lost our bicycles somewhere around sacramento. he was a real cool fella then, and he was an even cooler fella at the moment. cracking jokes casually as if we were neighbors on a lazy saturday afternoon, he obliterated nearly all protocol and by-the-book mentality and held the bus up just for us to ride. what a man.

so boom, bam, zip next thing I know, we're riding over the double-story bay bridge through dark dense nighttime illuminated only by soft glow of aisle lights and neighboring cell phones and ipods. with heartbeat slowing and fingers still twitching out of excitement and fear, I inhaled deeply and sank into that cushioned chair, waiting to see what our midnight destination of Santa Cruz had in store for us. (No one, no place, and no plan was all we had in Santa Cruz, for all we knew.)     

[daveykid]

REFLECTIONS FROM A DRIED STREAM

when others seek the the sanctuary of woods for its silence and peace and stillness,  I seek it for its life -  movement, swelling life -  more dense and flashing here than a crowded downtown intersection,  more truer too. STOP:  listen to the ancient orchestra, playing its ceaseless tune,  unchanged by time (aside from first and second chairs.) 

imagine me no more:  no life no death  no more.  my body, my self buried beneath damp,  thick, earth -  in communion, finally.  giving all and taking none surrounded by all and all surrounded by me,  lain with mind awake and awoken soul in my final bed,  with smiling soul and peaceful mind.  with thinning line marking what is and isn't  me. 

the flies know me better than the truest lovers,  epiphanic kisses, every inch of me, cleaning me preparing me, for my eternal bed,  and my eternal bride (whom knows me moreso than my dearest mother) and we shall wed in terms time does not measure nor can words speak of.

as i lay in sealed darkness listening to the infinite orchestra (and now apart of it too) I am family of the ancients and the living pause above me - seeking, pondering, electric, and they too will join me in the movement, and the unchanging tune carries on.

[daveykid]

You saw me on a friday.

you saw me on a friday. 

you said 'nice' I said 'thanks'

            (I'm not used to beautiful women walking up to me.) 

on sunday sidewalk 

I sang to you, 

not my song 

but you made me believe it was mine - 

you made me believe it was all mine: 

              the sidewalk, the street,

the sun, 

              my heart, your laughter. 

you sat facing the sun, 

it illuminated your eyes

revealing your spirit

killing my darkness. 

it took all i had 

to not get lost 

in sea-greens

and sky-blues

these hues, 

I've never seen before, I'm sure of it. 

And to think,

this is the first time we've met - 

or is it? 

[daveykid]

from robin pecknold, lead singer of fleet foxes (2008).

my first memory has always been of me and my mom on a cold grey day down at some beach in washington, along the puget sound somewhere near seattle. i would be around two or three years old and we're with a friend of mine from the neighborhood and his mom, walking around among the driftwood looking for crabs. even now, i can remember the smell and temperature of the air, the feeling of the sand and the swaying tall grass. i can even remember looking over at my friend and how his face looked when he smiled back at me. another memory that i'll sometimes recall as my first memory is dressing up in the dead of winter as jack london, with tennis rackets on my feet and wearing my dad's hiking pack, in the middle of summer after seeing disney's (terrible) version of white fang. or there's the memory of stealing my neighbor's big wheel and riding it halfway down the block before getting caught and having to turn around defeated, or of wearing a fireman's outfit while washing my parent's car, or eating an orange popsicle from the ice cream truck. 

these are and have always been some of my most distinct and persistent memories of childhood, so it came as a disappointment to me when, one day as a teenager, i opened up a photo album and found pictures of each and every one of these memories. i didn't have a single memory that didn't belong to or somehow grow from pictures my parents had taken of me when i was growing up. even the scenes i remember so clearly in my head are from the same angles as those photographs and i don't really know what to make of it. i'm going to guess that i'd seen all these photographs at some point, forgotten they were just photographs, and over time made them into my most tangible memories. that's scary to me in a way. 

this leads me to something weird about the power that music has, it's transportive ability. any time i hear a song or record that meant a lot to me at a certain moment or i was listening to at a distinct time, i'm instantly taken back to that place in full detail. whenever i hear "feel flows" by the beach boys, i'm taken straight to the back of my parents car on the way to my grandparents' place, fourteen with surf's up in my walkman and the cascade mountains going by in the window. any song off radiohead's kid a brings back the sounds and atmosphere of the airport near seattle, from when we were on the way to colorado for a wedding and kid a was the only record i brought or wanted to bring. "crayon angels" by judee sill is the whole winter of last year, and brian wilson's solo version of surf's up will take me back to driving my parent's car around town alone at the age of 16 with the windows down at night. 

i can ascribe exact memories to songs by the microphones, joni mitchell, built to spill, dungen, harry nilson, and so many others, and it's a form of recall that i can actually trust. there's no visual element to complicate things, no chance of a planted memory that wasn't actually supposed to be there and that is reassuring to me. maybe i should be concerned that i'm alone in almost all these memories, but i guess i was just a private kid and music was a private experience for me. i can even remember the certain kind of darkness my room would have when i was in there alone listening to records. i can read a good book cover to cover and never once forget i'm sitting in the middle of four slabs of drywall on a spring mattress in seattle - same with movies and tv and anything else. i can listen to music and instantly be anywhere that song is trying to take me. music activates a certain mental freedom in a way that nothing else can, and that is so empowering. you can call it escapism if you like, but i see it as connecting to a deeper human feeling than found in the day-to-day world. 

thank you for listening to our band. we've made some mistakes and we'll continue to do so, but we are happy to be making songs and would love the opportunity to continue to grow and change as the years pass by. it took us a long eight months of recording ourselves at home, recording piecemeal in studios, scrapping dozens of songs and starting over, and borrowing money and rooms from friends and family to make this record and its accompanying EP and we hope you enjoy it. music is a weird and cosmic thing, it's own strange religion for nonbelievers, and what a joy it is to make, in any form. 

also, don't trust your photographs. 

[daveykid]

van the man and bob dylan, playing on a hillside in athens, greece in the 80's?

has anyone seen this? did anyone ever see this? will anyone see this?

- i hope so. 

[daveykid]

stories from a backpack (soul-savin' fiddles)

(from san francisco, somtime early june) 

- BY THE GRACE OF GOD MAN, 

we heard two fiddles creating a world we never lived in but somehow knew so well. thought it was just speakers at the old ghirardelli factory, turned out to be two delightful and talented young women playing ancient moonlight folk about the sinking of the alabama in 1864 and other good ol' timey tunes that made you cry in happiness and sadness all at the same time. made you miss a woman, made you miss yer ma, made you miss yer youth but also made you proud of yerself, made you proud of yer courage and strength, made you happy to be alive at that moment, made you happy to be a traveler, reminded you of why yer doing it, reminded you that a lot of folks have done far more than you and they made it alright, and made you proud to be a young man on a journey to find something.

*AND THIS HERE WAS A PIVOTAL MOMENT, all of this happened as pete and i walked and talked of our plans to wrap it up, throw in the towel, and come home. we were planning on getting on our greyhound home the next morning and traveling no further north than our arrival. we were drenched in our sorrows and our failures. our hearts were in our shoes and our feet were hurtin', and we felt that our best of adventures were already behind us. we forgot what we came here for and as if to part our clouded souls and send some life - BAM! straight to 'em, we heard these soul-savin' fiddles fighting their way through the blanket fog of midnight fisherman's wharf right into our in-need eardrums. we sat on park benches with tears in our eyes, looking out over the bay to the distant golden gate and passed our tall can of cold, dollar-store chili that we called dinner that night. we wore our jackets tight, we knew we were going to be homeless again that night, and even the regular chitter-chatter and frequent appearances of the rats couldn't bother us - not in that moment, not when that music was being played. 

we migrated nearer to the girls and their music and we introduced ourselves and said thank you. turns out they're two parts of a three part band called whiskey + women and they play old sailor-shanties, civil war-era fiddle tunes, and cajun folk. here below is a photo of the women who quite possibly, most likely, and whole-heartedly saved our trip. 

thank you whiskey + women. i am forever grateful. 

http://whiskeyandwomenmusic.com/

[daveykid]

stories from a backpack (introduction)

"You lifted my soul with your stories, your readings, your singing, your notebooks, your beautiful candor!" 

                                                                           - a dear friend

as it has been over a year since i've last written in this forum, i feel there is no more apropos a time than now to write. i write, in part to break this barren streak of wordlessness and i write to tell of my experiences. from the last time i've written here to now, i've developed some sort of stigma to this whole 'blog' thing. to be honest i even hate that word... blog. oh, it's just awful. but anyway, i began to shy away from writing my thoughts, experiences, and feelings in a public place because i felt that i was basically saying to the world, "come, read, see how intelligent, existential, introspective, and sensitive i am - aren't i great?" and though i never wrote for those reasons, i still resorted to notebook and self alone. but now, still feeling the strength of a friend's push, i have decided to once more return to the BLOG (ick...) format to house thoughts, experiences, feelings, etc. 

and in honor of the grand reopening, i have chosen to, for the first time, speak publicly about my affair this summer. that's right, i was in love, still am, and i ain't ashamed to say so. california, oregon, washington, and british columbia welcomed me and held me closer than many a midwestern county ever has. these following stories will be either completely drenched in truth or simply based on it, but all of them will revolve around my experiences from around may 15 to sometime around august 12, from big sur, california, to vancouver, canada and back to my hometown, peoria, illinois. most likely, they will follow no chronological or topical order but instead will be published solely based on my fancy, and my fancy alone. i will aim to cover fact and speak creatively - i hope i do them both. if yer reading, thank you for it. if not, this never existed to you so why am i typing now? 

dave. 

[daveykid]

thinking about august in my underwear

well, it's that time once more. if you look back a year from this exact date, you will see that i made note of a special time in my life during the transition from july to august. it turned out tough... but wonderful. i met some of my very best friends i've got, i started a love affair with the city of saint louis that i don't see ending anytime soon, and by nearly getting myself kicked out, i've learned to love Saint Louis University and all it has to offer. 

I think back on the individual that occupied my body this time last year and much has changed; some for better, some for worse. but now, once again, i welcome august with open arms and open mind to see where it will take me and what adventures it will lay at my feet. i also see august as the anticipated catalyst to take me as I am now to the I that I want to be. Man at work-- on himself. this period of my life is a constant trial and error in seeing who i want to be, and i will use the fresh breath of august to work on the areas in my life that i feel i struggle with:

-- time management

-- focus

-- procrastination

-- my word and following through

-- staying positive and loving to all through all

Also, I do believe that physical changes can also help stir up emotional, mental, and spiritual changes in our lives, which is another reason why August 1 is a big day. Today is the day that I shave my beard i've been growing since May 30 and cut my hair... so I leave you all with a before and soon there will be an after.

So to you dear friends,

I say good night, happy august, and remember- it's a new month, a new day, you are the sole decider of your fate, make august how you want to make it.

Love!

dave.

[daveykid]

wait... don't say a word.

Deer Friends... and Dear friends,  Have I told you lately that I love you? Well it's true- Take that world. Love 1, Hate 0.

In other news, last night I went and saw The Artist at Hi-Point, one of the finest and oldest theaters in all of Saint Louis. It's a silent film, made in 2011, but set back in the late 20's and early 30's. The film made a very profound impact upon me and following the film, I decided not to speak for the rest of Saturday night. After the movie, I met up with colleagues and bff's Johhny Dolan and Kathleen Roche; this is where the idea went from just for fun to bizness.

We congregated and began to develop a challenge for me: Go 7 days without speaking, unless ABSOLUTELY necessary and when working at The Boys Club. (That would be just cruel and unusual to do to the little guys.) This means I will not be talking at school, on campus, to myself, in passing, and no singing. 

Why You Ask?

- I talk too much. I want to listen to everyone, I want to hear what everyone has to say and not put my own input in. I want to hear everything around me: the birds, squirrels, airplanes, whatever...

- I've been so blessed to be able to communicate without any hinderance my entire life. I want to obtain a greater appreciation for this amazing, wonderful blessing of language that we humans have. 

- I think we as society, do say too much sometime. At the moment our words leave our mouths, they are in the world forever... no turning back. I want to be more aware of my words and how I use them. 

- I believe we can connect and communicate in intimate and boundless ways through other ways than just speech. We being human is enough for me. "My humanity is your humanity."  At this moment, this is all that I can think of, but I will be hopefully finding more reasons and learning more from this whole experience. Follow along over the next couple days and learn with me. One thing that I have already learned is that without a voice, you start to feel without an identity. You can not say what you think is good or bad, funny or beautiful, you cannot say what is you. I've been not speaking for only one day now, and I've already felt this. I admire with all my heart the millions who have had their voice silenced either literally or figuratively- for they are heroes. 

to all my friends who have read this or to all those who will encounter me over the upcoming days, please be patient with me; this is an challenge for you as well. Goodnight and good love.

dave.

Listening to bon iver is EVEN better when you're silent: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePatJIwB-sI 

[daveykid]

A Quick One...

Dear Friends,  If you have the time, take a break from your yule logs, your chestnuts roasting, and six geese-a-laying to read this tiny thought of mine.

The other day, my uncle jokingly was discussing the courage and pure beauty that Charlie Brown represents when he goes to kick the football as if he's never been wronged before in his life. Still to this day, over a period of some 60 years in Peanuts circulation, Charlie STILL hasn't gotten to the football before Lucy pulls it out from beneath him. 

There lies the beauty.

It's not important whether or not he's kicked the football, but that he continually trusts Lucy time and time... and time again. He puts his unwavering faith in her that she will do him right. Instead of being cold and cut-off from the his friends and the sport that he loves so dearly, he puts himself out there again. 

At times, we're gonna get hurt folks; by our friends, our family, strangers, and factors simply out of our control, but the pain and sadness caused by giving up will be infinitely deeper and harder. Let me employ these words:

Tis better to loved and lost, than to never love at all. 

-The British Poet, Alfred Lord Tennyson So, go be like Charlie Brown, and BELIEVE. Have faith in something, someone.

Merry December 22! and oh, Wilco: 

Theologians don't know nothin' bout my soul, oh they don't know. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=el75UyYO554

[daveykid]

The Renaissance of David

Well, originally had a big, long and detailed preface to why I am doing all this, but the internet froze late last night and it didn't save. Bummer. 

But because of less than magnificent effort in school, personal relationships, and life, I have decided to adopt a plan of sorts in hopes that I will recapture the essence of the David I once and also learn the things I've never quite been able to till this point. (Focus, time management, keeping my word, being on time, etc...) 

Through the things I've learned from Jesuit teachings at SLU, friends at SLU, and friends and family back home, here is my 'plan' with each 'rule' attempting to make me the better ME: 

*prayer/meditation- start each day with at least a 1/2 hour of prayer and meditation in silence

*reading- if possible, read a book a week, read articles, poems, whatever

*music- learn a new song on guitar every 3 days if possible

*food plan- NO meat, no soda or alcohol, stay away from artificial fillers,  dairy, eggs, and fish are cool. The diet focuses on fruits and vegetables and  their juices, nuts and whole grains. [Natural Focused]

*mealtime requirements- talking is ok, but NO TV, no internet, no reading

  *chastity- no sexual activity whatsoever  

*be original- do something you haven't done before, something you've always  always wanted to do

*modified silence- the 2nd and 3rd Saturday of the plan, observe modified silence. This means speak only when necessary and be sure to realize  it is necessary

*give 'em truth- on all occasions, with everyone- tell the truth

*TV- avoid it, movies are cool though, but limit it to no more than one movie a day

*technology- although in this day & age, it's nearly impossible, try to avoid  as much modern technology as possible. Do it yourself

*make something- Whatever it is, whether a painting, a bar of soap, a meal,  or a song- create something, put yourself into it

*cell phones- use only when necessary, and treat it like a home phone

*daily act of charity- do something for someone, make them happier, make the world a better place by being in it

*journal- over the 3 weeks, attempt to keep a journal outlining your feelings and thoughts of the day

*seize the day- don't sleep till 12 PM like every stereotype says I'm going to.  Get up at 6-7 AM and enjoy the mornings

*move yo' body- basketball, pushups, sit-ups, running, whatever it is that gets  your heart going in two different ways, do it. 

*do it now- if there's something you need to do, do it now, play later

Over the next couple days, I'm sure I'll be adding in additional parts to the plan and you may be wondering, "David, why so many rules, shouldn't you be enjoying your Christmas break?"  - But friends, I am. I need to undergo these to shape me into the man I need to become.

Wish me luck, if you attempt any of these, best of luck. You got it.

Well,

Good morning to you all and love,

dave.  

[daveykid]

Are we strangers now... Like rock n' roll, and radio? Thank you dear Ray LaMontagne. You melt my heart...  

[daveykid]

the hum-drum and chitter-chatter of the ol' insects of the night...

As I have gotten older, and as I have experienced more of the sweet nectar that life has to offer us, I have taken to the road like an old weary traveler, exploring distant lands and finding more comfort in 'being away', and the idea of home has become a place inside of me rather than an actual physical location.

No concrete, no wood. 

After being on the road for almost two months with my suitcase, I've noticed something about 'home,' I've noticed that in the town I've been in since I was 3 years old, I am beginning to feel more like a visitor each day. Could be my heart is elsewhere, could be I don't really fit in with lifestyle, or could be I'm just lonely and searching for something else. All I know is that times have definitely changed, no denying that. And to tell the beautiful truth, I'm completely ok with that, in fact I'm glad things are this way. 

 Peoria and more specifically, Bartonville, have been great hometowns, they have given me great people, and wonderful times. So to thee o Peoria, my birthplace and house and home for the last 20 years, I say, thank you. You were great, but I really should get going... I've got things to do, and others are waiting on me, but take care, and maybe I'll see you on down the road. 

As of today, I have less than 10 days in this city and state, from thence I will be going on to live in St. Louis, Missouri and attend the University of Saint Louis. (If I sound like I'm bragging, I'm just confirming this to make sure it's real... it's almost too good friends) I cannot wait to see what this next step has waiting for me. So as I spend these last 10 days in my native land, I also must acknowledge that we are becoming strangers like "rock and roll, and radio..." 

Thank you Peoria, and I am ready oh Gateway to the West. Receive me with your welcoming waters of the Mississippi and give me a place to call home. 

in love, 

dave. 

[daveykid]

The Gardener by the tallest man on earth. To new beginnings and becoming the best that we can be.