Missed a week.  Maybe back on track.

You have no clue how hard it was to pick a song like this today.

Down

Down
Fell by the wayside
No getting out

Down
Cry me a river
Dried up and damned

The names can be changed
But the place is still the same

I am loaded, told that all’s for naught
Holds me down

Rise
Life is in motion
I’m stuck in line

Rise
You can’t be neutral
On a moving train

One day the symptoms fade
Think I’ll throw these fucking pills away

And if hope could grow from dirt like me
It can be done

Won’t let the light escape from me!
Won’t let the darkness swallow me!

Fuck Arnold Schwarzenegger.  Fuck him, fuck everything he stands for, and fuck the Hummer he rode in.  But I won’t let the darkness swallow me.  I’ll make it through this year if it kills me.

Twenty-five.  Wow.  And another saved-from-extinction week by writing last week’s Vedder Tuesday on a Monday.  So maybe another one tomorrow.  But probably not.

Here’s a rather dark one from their debut record:

Deep

On the edge, a windowsill
Ponders his maker, ponders His will
To the street below, he just ain’t nothing
But he’s got a great view, and he sinks the needle deep, yeah…
Can’t touch the bottom
In too deep, yeah.
Can’t touch the bottom

Oh, on the edge of a know-nothing town
Feeling quite superior, the aged come
To the sky above he just ain’t nothing
But he’s got a great view, and he sinks a burning knife deep, yeah…
Can’t touch the bottom
In too deep
Can’t touch the bottom
In too deep

On the edge of a Christmas-clean love
Young virgin down from Heaven — visiting Hell
To the man above her, she just ain’t nothing
And she doesn’t like the view
She doesn’t like the view
She doesn’t like the view

But he sinks himself deep
Oh, can’t touch the bottom
In too deep, yeah
Can’t touch the bottom
Can’t touch the bottom

Heroin abuse, murder, and child rape, all in one song?  Wow.  Three cheers for the subject matter of the music I listen to.

If I don’t do one today (Monday) I’ll have missed a week.  So sorry.

Ed once said that their first album dealt a lot with teen and youth angst, but that he figured older people felt it too, and wanted to make a song about that.  Here it is, the song with the longest title in the Pearl Jam catalog.

Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town

I seem to recognize your face
Haunting, familiar — yet I can’t seem to place it
Cannot find the candle of thought to light your name
Lifetimes are catching up with me
All these changes taking place
I wish I’d seen the place
But no one’s ever taken me
Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away
Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away

I swear I recognize your breath
Memories, like fingerprints, are slowly raising
Me, you wouldn’t recall, for I’m not my former
It’s hard when you’re stuck upon the shelf
I changed by not changing at all
Small town predicts my fate
Perhaps that’s what no one wants to see
I just want to scream “Hello!”
My God its been so long!
Never dreamed you’d return!
But now here you are, and here I am
Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away

The next one … tomorrow?

All Vedder Tuesday

“Riding atop a black horse” is one of the best metaphors for depression I’ve ever heard.

Hold On

I was drawn
Riding atop a black horse
Whatever prize there was,
I could only observe
Where the trouble starts.
Where does it end?
How can I be cured …
How, before it ends?

I know life would be different if I held on.  Held on.
I know I could be something if I held on

Gave her life away
Put it in my pocket when it should have been framed
Oh, I lost its shine
Gotta get this out of my head
Out of my bed
How could it end …
End like this?
How could it end?

I know life would be different had I held on.  Held on.
I know I could be something had I held on.  Held on.
I know I could be something if I held on.  Held on.
I know life would be different if I held on. Held on!

Held on.  Held on.  If I …
Held on.  Held on.  If I …
Held on.  Held on.  If I …
Held on.  Held on.

All Vedder Tuesday

Super, super late this week.  Sorry.

Love Boat Captain

Is this just another day, this God-forgotten place?
First comes love and then comes pain.  Let the games begin.
Questions rise and answers fall, insurmountable.

Love Boat Captain
Take the reigns and steer us towards the clear, here.
It’s already been sung, but it can’t be said enough:
All you need is love

Is this just another phase of earthquakes making waves?
Trying to shake the cancer off?  Stupid human beings!
Once you hold the hand of love it’s all surmountable.

Hold me, and make it the truth
That when all is lost there will be you
‘Cause to the universe I don’t mean a thing
And there’s just one word I stil believe
And it’s …

It’s an art to live with pain.  Mix the light into gray
Lost nine friends we’ll never know two years ago today
And if our lives became too long, would it add to our regret?

And the young, they can lose hope ’cause they can’t see beyond today
The wisdom that the old can’t give away
Constant recoil, sometimes life don’t leave you alone

Hold me, and make it the truth
That when all is lost there will be you
‘Cause to the universe I don’t mean a thing
And there’s just one word that I still believe and it’s
“Love”
Love. love. love. love

Love boat captain
Take the reigns and steer us towards the clear
I know it’s already been sung but it can’t be said enough
Love is all you need
All you need is love
Love, love
Love

Wow!  Twenty-one!

I’m in a place today where I can post lyrics to this song without (probably) crying — shout-out to those intimate enough to grok that, and a louder one to those who know why — so I should take the chance.

The End

What were all those dreams we shared
Those many years ago?
What were all those plans we made
Now left beside the road?
Behind us in the road?

More than friends, I always pledged
‘Cause friends they come and go
People change, as does everything
I wanted to grow old
Just want to grow old

Slide on next to me!
I’m just a human being
I will take the blame,
But just the same
This is not me
You see
Believe
I’m better than this

Don’t leave me so cold!
Or buried beneath the stones!
I just want to hold on
And know I’m worth your love
Enough
I don’t think
There’s such a thing

It’s my fault, now I’ve been caught
A sickness in my bones
How it pains to leave you here
With the kids on your own
Just don’t let me go!

Help me see myself
‘Cause I can no longer tell
Looking out from the inside of
The bottom of a well
I yell –
It’s hell –
But no one hears

Before I disappear
Whisper in my ear
Give me something to echo
In my unknown future’s ear

My dear –
The End –
Comes near –
I’m here –
But not much longer

[Fuck.  Ed, you bastard.  So close to making it without tears.  And you ended an album with this.]

In the immortal words of Johnson, “I remain, &c.“,

Vedder Tuesday

[No, really, Johnson would literally write "I remain, &c.."]

I’ve been trying to think of something spectacular for the twentieth Vedder Tuesday, for the milestone.  But, in all, I think I was thinking about it backwards: multiples of ten are arbitrary, and I should have gone with my intuition of choosing without regard to the milestone.  So I’ll choose relative to the grief-inducing — real grief — of the right-wing gains this week.  They declared the culture war.  I think we’ve had enough.  Now they need to get their own scars.

Whipping

Don’t need a helmet, got a hard, hard head
Don’t need a raincoat, I’m already wet
Don’t need a bandage, there’s too much blood
After a while seems to roll right off

Whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping

Don’t need a hand, there’s always arms attached
Oh, don’t get behind, I can’t fall back
Why must we trust all these rusted rails?
They don’t want no change, we already have

Whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping

Don’t mean to push, but I’m being shoved!
I’m just like you, think we’ve had enough
I can’t believe a thing they want us to
Oh, we all got scars, they should have ‘em too

Whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping
They’re whipping

Back next week — and maybe even on time.

When the film Dead Man Walking was in production, director Tim Robbins commissioned tracks from a number of artists for the soundtrack.  Vedder shows up twice, once with a version of “Long Road” and once on a wonderful track called “The Face of Love”, both with the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.  This week’s VT is a song that was passed over in favor of Bruce Springsteen’s (much less impressive-to-me) “Dead Man Walkin’”.  My favorite moment is when it is ambiguous whether “across” or “a cross” is being sung.

Dead Man

Sailing on my every step
Inching off of the earth
It’s magnified by the things I’ve done
The thing that I’ve become

Every lift of my hand –
Coffee cup up and back –
Is magnified by the things I’ve done
The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve caused
I’m a dead man walking

The hammer that I once brought down now hovers over me
Casts a shadow, across/”a cross” onto me

The hallways are all mocking me
What I’ve become — they’re all mocking me

I’m a dead man walking.  A dead man walking.  A dead man walking.
I’m a dead man walking.  Dead man walking.  Dead man walking.

Same bat-time!

All Vedder Tuesday

I haven’t been sleeping in a cardboard box (it’s more of an aluminum box) and it was fairly cruel to poke fun at that situation.  So, as has happened before, contrition through Vedder Tuesday, the lyrics of which are almost impossible to understand when sung.

Even Flow

Freezing, rests his head on a pillow made of concrete — again
Oh, feeling maybe he’ll see a little better set o’ days
Oh, hand out, faces that he sees time again ain’t that familiar
Oh, dark grin — he can’t help when he’s happy, looks insane

Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies
Oh, he don’t know so he chases them away
Oh, someday, yeah, he’ll begin his life again
Life again
Life again

Kneeling, looking through the paper though he doesn’t know to read
Oh, praying now to something that has never showed him anything
Oh, feeling — understands the weather of the winters on its way
Oh, ceilings few and far between all the legal halls of shame

Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies
Oh, he don’t know so he chases them away
Oh, someday yet he’ll begin his life again
Oh, whispering hands gently lead him away
Lead him away
Lead him away

Oh, fuck your money!

Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies
Oh, he don’t know so he chases them away
Ah someday yet he’ll begin his life again
Oh, whispering hands gently lead him away
Him away
Him away
Yeah

All Vedder Tuesday

Off He Goes

Know a man
His face seems pulled and tense
Like he’s riding on a motorbike
In the strongest winds
So I approach with tact
Suggest that he should relax
But he’s always moving much too fast

Said he’ll see me on the flip side
On this trip he’s taken for a ride
He’s been taking too much on
There he goes with his perfectly unkempt clothes
There he goes

He’s yet to come back
But I’ve seen his picture
It doesn’t look the same upon the rack
We go way back

I wonder ’bout his insides
It’s like his thoughts are too big for his size
He’s been taken; where, I don’t know
Off he goes with his perfectly unkempt clothes
There he goes

And now I rub my eyes, for he has returned!
It seems my preconceptions are what should have been burned!
For he still smiles.  And he’s still strong.
Nothing’s changed but the surrounding bullshit
That has grown

And now he’s home and we’re laughing
Like we always did, my same old, same old friend
Until a quarter to ten
I saw the strain creep in
He seems distracted and I know just what is going to happen next

Before his first step
He’s off again

(Sooner than two years this time, OK?  Love you.  Miss you.)

All Vedder Tuesday

I asked my favorite adult human for help choosing today’s VT.  He came through:

Undone

Last stop on the West Coast line
South of the northern border,
One small corner — home tonight

Everybody, they know me there
Don’t get any second glances
Chances are that they don’t care

The world has come undone
Like to change it everyday
Change don’t come at once
There’s a wave building before it breaks

Can’t wait for election day
Witness the occupation:
Corporations rule the day

Well, you know the pendulum throws
Farther out to the one side swinging
Has to sweep back the other way

The world has come undone
Another day and who can wait?
Change don’t come at once
It’s a wave building before it breaks

All this hope and nowhere to go;
This is how I used to feel — but no more!

The world has come undone
Like a game, if you can play
Change don’t come from one:
It’s a wave building before it breaks

Keep pushing the pendulum, dear friends.  Don’t lose hope in hope.  The wave hasn’t broken yet — but I’ve got my surfboard ready.

Back next week!

All Vedder Tuesday

This story has been told by many others and at greater length, but Stone Gossard, after the breakup of Mother Love Bone, put a band together and recorded a tape of instrumental demos which he then circulated, trying to find a vocalist.  The tape landed in the possession of San Diego surfer (and gas station attendant) Eddie Vedder, who couldn’t get the music out of his head, wrote the lyrics to a mini opera, made a tape of his vocals on top of the band’s music, and sent the tape back to Seattle.

The opera is called “Mamasan”.  It is about a young man who was never told that his step-father was not his real father until the death of the latter, at which point the young man’s mother tells him so and, due to the resemblance of father and son, begins an incestuous relationship with him.  This traumatizes the young man; he wonders if his survival and his father’s death is a curse, and becomes a serial rapist and murderer, driving on wild sprees through the countryside, until he is caught and, languishing in prison, blames everything on his mother. 

So … yeah.  That’s … not exactly … glam, is it?  That’s a fair departure from 1980s hair metal.

Mamasan

Alive

“Son,” she said, “have I got a little story for you.
“What you thought was your was your daddy was nothing but a fool
“While you were sitting home alone at age thirteen,
“Your real father was dying. Sorry you didn’t see him, but I’m glad we talked.”

Oh, I’m still alive

She walks slowly across a young man’s room.
She said “I’m ready for you.”
I can’t remember anything of this very day,
Except the look
The look…
Oh, you know where!
Now I can’t see, I just stare

I’m still alive

“Is something wrong?” she said
Of course there is!
“You’re still alive!” she said
Oh, and do I deserve to be?
Is that the question?
And if so…
If so…
Who answers?
Who answers?

I’m still alive
Oh, I’m still alive
But I’m still alive

I’m still alive

Once

I admit it!  What’s to say?
I’ll relive it without pain
Backseat lover on the side of the road
I’ve got a bomb in my temple that is gonna explode
I’ve got a sixteen gauge buried under my clothes, I play…
Once upon a time I could control myself
Once upon a time I could lose myself

Oh, try and mimic what’s insane
I am in it!  Where do I stand?
Oh, Indian summer and I hate the heat
I’ve got a backstreet lover on the passenger seat
I’ve got my hand in my pocket, so determined, discreet, I pray…
Once upon a time I could control myself
Once upon a time I could lose myself

You think I’ve got my eyes closed but I’m looking at you the whole fucking time

Once upon a time I could control myself
Once upon a time I could lose myself
Once upon a time I could love myself
Once upon a time I could love you
Once.

Footsteps

Don’t even think about reaching me;
I won’t be home
Don’t even think about stopping by –
Don’t think of me at all
I did what I had to do
If there was a reason, it was you

Don’t even think about getting inside;
Voices in my head, voices
Oh, I’ve got scratches all over my arms
One for each day since I fell apart
I did what I had to do
If there was a reason, it was you

Footsteps in the hall, it was you.  You.
Pictures on my chest, it was you.  You.
It was you

I did what I had to do
And if there was a reason
Oh, there wasn’t no reason, no!
And if there’s something you’d like to do –
Just let me continue to blame you

Footsteps in the hall, it was you.  You
Pictures on my chest, it was you.
You.
You.

Back next week!

All Vedder Tuesday

These lyrics were written near the end of the Clinton years, in response to the WTO protests in Pearl Jam’s home, Seattle.  Remember that?  Remember those?  Remember, before Bush Ⅱ, when the scale of world conflict was muted enough that trade imbalances made front page news?

Bush has come, Bush is gone.  And gods did I hope I would not have cause to trot out these lyrics.

But yesterday and today, with news of Lieberman holding health care hostage in the Senate, with an intended destruction of the public option — the option that keeps the US from further becoming a corporate state, in the way that the U.S. is a corporate state insofar as its economy is concerned — and news that Obama is tentatively supporting this castration — It.  Is.  Fucking.  Time.  For these lyrics.  Senators (most are millionaires): This is our blood.  We need our blood.  We want our independence from bloodthirsty corporations.  We are deserving — we all are deserving — something more.

Grievance

Have a drink — they’re buying!
Bottom of bottle of denial

Big guy, big eye watching me
Have to wonder what it sees
Progress laced with ramifications –
Freedom’s big plunge

Pull the innocent from the crowd
Raise the sticks then bring them down
If they fail to obey
Oh, if they fail to obey

For every tool they lend us, a loss of independence

I pledge my grievance to the flag
‘Cause you don’t give blood then take it back again
Oh, we’re all deserving something more!

Progress!  Taste it!  Invest it all!
Champagne breakfast for everyone!

Break the innocent when they’re proud
Raise the stakes then bring them down
If they fail to obey
Yeah, if they fail to obey

Pledge your grievance to the flag!
Oh, come on!  Don’t give blood then take it back again!
Oh, we’re all deserving something more!

Have a, have a drink, drink!
Have a, have a drink, drink!

I want to breathe part of the scene
I want to taste everyone I see
I want to run when I’m up high
I want to run into the sea
I want to life to be –
I just want to be –
To be –
I will feel alive as long as I am free

Pledge your grievance to your senators.  Right now, while you’re emboldened and thinking about it.

I’d like to pretend that the first installment of Vedder Tuesday into … Advent?  Are we in Advent?  Pre-Christmas anyway … was chosen for the Christmas reference.  But no, I just love these lyrics to an insane degree.  While it sometimes drives me absolutely batty that he does not use the subjunctive (”I wish I were…” is the same number of syllables, Ed), I hope you will enjoy these.

Wishlist

I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off
I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on
I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on the Christmas tree
I wish I was the star that went on top
I wish I was the evidence, I wish I was the grounds
For fifty million hands upraised and opened toward the sky

I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me
I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me
I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good
I wish I was the full moon shining off a Camaro’s hood

I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun
I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on
I wish I was the pedal brake that you depended on
I wish I was the verb ‘to trust’ and never let you down

I wish I was a radio song, the one that you turned up
I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish
Oh, wishes never stop

(Thirteen is the first number for which there is no single-character Unicode encoding.  So, for the first time, the ⅩⅢ comprises two characters.  Just thought you’d want to know that.)

All Vedder Tuesday

I’ve got a treat for readers this week: I converted (YouTube) videos from the 2009-10-06 Los Angeles Pearl Jam concert to mp3 and I’m making them available for your downloading pleasure.  Why should you especially care about this concert?  Well — Ben Harper playing slide guitar on “Red Mosquito”?  Jerry Cantrell playing a second “Alive” solo?  Chris Cornell joining PJ onstage for a reunion of Temple of the Dog, and the band performing “Hunger Strike”?  A string quartet joining the band for three songs, including (for real) an acoustic version of “Lukin”?  If those descriptions do’t prompt you to download, you’re going to have to go sit in the hallway.  (The two tracks that are missing — “Comatose” and “Save You” — are missing in the source.)

That show begins with “Sometimes”.  I’ve always loved the lyrics, especially as the beginning of a concert (it also begins the album No Code).  It seems an entirely reasonable song for the twelfth installment of this series.

Sometimes

Large fingers pushing paint
You’re God and you’ve got big hands
The colors blend:
The challenges you give man

Seek my part
Devote myself
My small self
Like a book amongst the many on a shelf

Sometimes I know
Sometimes I rise
Sometimes I fall
Sometimes I don’t
Sometimes I cringe
Sometimes I live
Sometimes I walk
Sometimes I kneel
Sometimes I speak of nothing at all
Sometimes I reach to myself, dear God

Seriously, download the concert.

All Vedder Tuesday

I’m still sick, but I feel rather negligent having skipped a Vedder Tuesday.  So I want to repay it with interest, with a compound post of the “driving songs”.

Rearviewmirror

I took a drive today
Time to emancipate
I guess it was the beatings that made me wise
But I am not about to give thanks, or apologize

I couldn’t breathe, holding me down
Hand on my face, pushed to the ground
Enmity gaged, united by fear
Forced to endure what I could not forgive

I seem to look away
Wounds in the mirror waved
It wasn’t my surface most defiled

Head at your feet, fool to your crown
Fist on my plate, swallowed it down
Enmity gaged, united by fear
Tried to endure what I could not forgive

Saw things clearer when you were in my rearview mirror

I gather speed from you fucking with me
Once and for all I’m far away
I hardly believe — finally the shades are raised

Saw things so much clearer
Once you, once you were in my rearview mirror

Untitled

I’ve got a car
I’ve got some gas
Let’s get out of here
Get out of here fast
Everyone’s confused
So I stay in my room
If I go, I don’t want to go alone

I hope you get this message,
Or you’re not home
I could be there in ten minutes or so
I’ve got my things
We’ll make it up as we go along
With you i could never be alone

MFC

Sliding out of reverse into drive
This wheel will be turning right, then straight
Off in the sunset she’ll ride
She can remember a time [??? -- "denied"?]
Stood by side of the road, spilled like wine
Now she’s out on her own and [??? -- "line high"?]

There’s no leaving here
Ask, I’m an ear
She’s disappeared

They said timing was everything
Made him want to be everywhere
There’s a lot to be said for nowhere

There’s no leaving here
Ask, I’m an ear
We’ve disappeared
There’s no leaving here
Ask, I’m an ear
Fuck it, we’ll disappear

Gone

No more upset mornings
No more trying evenings
This American Dream I am disbelieving
When the gas in my tank feels like money in the bank
Gonna blow it all this time, take me one last ride

For the lights of this city, they only look good when I’m speeding
I wanna leave them all behind me, ’cause this time I’m gone

Long gone
This time I’m letting go of it all
So long
This time I’m gone

In the far-off distance as my taillights fade
No one thinks to witness, but they will someday
Feel like a question is forming
And the answer’s far:
I will be what I could be
Once I get out of this town

For the lights of this city, they have lost all feeling
Gonna leave them all behind me ’cause this time I’m gone

Long gone
This time I’m letting go of it all
So long
Long gone, I’m letting go of it all
Yeah, this time I’m gone

If nothing is everything,
If nothing is everything I’ll have it all
If nothing is everything then I will have it all

Did I forget any Vedder driving songs?  Other than Once, which isn’t at all in the same mold?

All Vedder Tuesday

So, I said that I was willing to compromise on paid-for abortions in order to effect health care reform.  I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and, though it upsets me, I think I really am.  Bob Mike called it having someone “thrown under the bus for this thing”.  I don’t think that’s entirely true, but there’s some truth in it.

In any case, let me balance that a little bit with the Vedder Tuesday for this week.

Porch

What the fuck is this world running to?
You didn’t leave a message, at least I
Could have learned your voice one last time
Daily minefield, this could be my time.  ‘Bout you?
Would you hit me?
Would you hit me?

All the bills go by and initiatives are taken up by the middle
There ain’t gonna be any middle any more
And the cross I’m bearing home ain’t indicative of my place
Left the porch
Left the porch

Hear my name, take a good look
This could be the day!
Hold my hand, walk beside me
I just need to say:

There’s something
There’s something I don’t mind
There’s a choice in my time
I don’t think changing it –
Not a good time to make a change for it
There is something in this that’s different
I know how I want to live
How I want to choose

Hear my name, take a good look
This could be the day!
Hold my hand, lie beside me
I just need to say:

I could not take
Just one day
I knew when I would not ever
Touch you
Hold you
Feel you
In my arms
Never again

Back next week.

All Vedder Tuesday

I had a hard time choosing this week.  Because of the events of the last week, I thought anything I chose could have subtext read into it.  If you don’t get that, that’s fine, and if you want subtext for this, go ahead, it’s probably there — but I’ll put this out as a great set of lyrics.

Save You

I’m gonna save you, fucker; I’m not gonna lose you
Feeling cocky and strong, can’t let you go
Too important to me, too important to us, we’d be lost without you
Baby, let yourself fall: I’m right below you now

And fuck me if I say something you don’t wanna hear, fuck me
And fuck me if you only hear what you wanna hear
Fuck me if I care: but I’m not leaving here

You helped me when I was down; I’ll help when you’re down
Why are you hitting yourself?  Come on, hit me instead!
Let’s pick up your will, it’s grown fat and lazy
I’m sympathetic as well, but don’t go on me now

And I’m not living this life without you, I’m selfish and clear
And you’re not leaving here without me, I don’t wanna be without my best friend
Wake up to see you could have it all

‘Cause there is but you, something within you
It’s taken control; let’s beat it, get up, let’s go
Oh, you’re in your own world, let’s see the whole world
Let’s pick up your soul

And fuck me if I say something you don’t wanna hear, fuck me
And fuck me if you only hear the treble in your head
Please help me to help you help yourself
Help me help yourself
Please want me to
Please let me to
Help you!

All Vedder Tuesday

Eight!  Eight is great!  (or, at least, good enough for Rebecca Gayheart)  This may be the longest any mcgees.org tradition has gone on.

In commemoration of that — or, you know, just because I feel like it — I’m pulling out a huge heavy-hitter this week.

Marker In the Sand

There is a marker;
No one sees it ’cause the sand
Has covered over
All the messages it kept;
From misunderstanding
What Original Truth was,
And now expanding
In a faith, but not in love

What went wrong?
Walking tightrope high
Over moral ground
Seeing visions of
Falling up somehow.
Oh, do come down!
With the living let what is living love.
So unforgiving, yet needing forgiveness first

God, what do you say?

Those undecided
Needn’t have faith to be free;
And those misguided,
There was a plan for them to be!
Now you’ve got both sides
Claiming ‘Killing in God’s Name’,
But God is nowhere to be found, conveniently

What goes on?
Walking tightrope high
Over moral ground.
Walk the bridges before you burn them down!
Do come ’round
With the living let what is living love.
Unforgiving, yet needing forgiveness first

God, what do you say?
God, what do you say?

I feel a sickness,
A sickness coming over me,
Like watching freedom
Being sucked straight out to sea.
And the solution?
Well, from me, far would it be
But the delusion is feeling dangerous to me

What goes wrong?
Walking tightrope high
Over moral ground
Seeing visions of falling up somehow
Oh, do come down!
With the living let what is living love,
Unforgiving yet needing forgiveness first

Oh, what do you say?
God, what do you say?

Calling out, calling out!
I’m calling out, calling out!

Back next week!

All Vedder Tuesday

I’ve been using last.fm for about 2.5 years now (hi Karina!), and I’ve been scrobbling my music for much of that time.  Eventually, patterns should emerge.  Such as this compilation of my “Top Artists” that it displays for me:

1. Pearl Jam
2. Eddie Izzard
3. Nirvana
4. The Chieftains
5. Frédéric Chopin
6. Tally Hall
7. Queensrÿche
8. Stone Temple Pilots
9. Led Zeppelin
10. Argerich / Freire / Kremer / Maisky [performing Saint-Saëns's Le Carnaval des Animaux]
11. Lacuna Coil
12. Tool
13. Rush
14. Dream Theater
15. Loreena McKennitt

I’m not sure I could/would have come up with that exact list in that exact order on my own, but, yes, that’s a pretty good ranking of my tastes, save maybe the Saint-Saëns, which is pretty much all Aquarium, and pretty much all Niall.

Now, why and how that list could represent the top 15 choices of one person is left as an exercise to a suitably intrepid and demented reader.

Coming from the rich field of “artists with our own mood disorders” (quick shout-out to my homies Henry, Frédéric, and Edgar.  Boyeez!) is one of those startling bits of Vedder’s poetry that I could get tattooed.  On the insides of my eyelids.

In Hiding

I shut and locked the front door; no way in or out
I turned and walked the hallway and pulled the curtains down
I knelt and emptied the mouth of every plug around
But nothing’s sound
Nothing’s sound

I stayed where my last step left me, ignored all my rounds
Soon I was seeing visions and cracks along the walls
They were upside down

I swallow my words to keep from lying
I swallow my face just to keep from biting
I swallowed my breath and went deep, I was diving. Diving.
I surfaced and all of my being was enlightened
Now I’m…

I’m in hiding
I’m in hiding!
I’m in hiding
I’m in hiding

It’s been about three days now since I’ve been aground
No longer overwhelmed and it seems so simple now
It’s funny when things change so much; it’s all state of mind

I swallowed my words to keep from lying
I swallowed my face just to keep from biting
I swallowed my breath and went deep, I was diving. I was diving.
I surfaced and all of my being was enlightened
Now I’m…

I’m in hiding
I’m in hiding!
I’m in hiding
I’m in hiding
I’m in hiding
I’m in hiding!
I’m in hiding
I’m in hiding

All Vedder Tuesday

I am, it seems, taking requests now.  The fact that Vedder Tuesday is popular enough to warrant that is awesome.  I actually had one planned for today, off of the same album (the seminal Vitalogy), but the request is very good, too — a live-concert song for quite a while before the release of the album, during which time it was known (at least among fans) by the title Already In Love.

Very, very angry, and the Gossardian riff is like an unstoppable locomotive pulling the song through the murky grunge morass.  I once (accidentally) shared the song with a music professor, who liked it a great deal, and said that the band clearly had a lot of experience improvising live, laying down a progression and modifying it as they went.

Satan’s Bed

It’s not all been said, been said and done
I’ve never slept in Satan’s bed
Although, I must admit, still visits my place
Uninvited; as you know he don’t wait
Funny how he always seems to fit in
Funny how I always want to give in
Sundays, Fridays, Tuesdays, Thursdays the same
Sometimes the special guest, he don’t like to leave

Already in love
Already in love
Already in love

Who made, who made up, who made up the myth
That we were born to be covered in bliss?
Who set the standard, born to be rich?
Such fine examples, skinny little bitch!
Model, role model?  Roll some models in blood!
Get some flesh to stick, so they look like us
I shit and I stink, I’m real, join the club
I’d stop and talk, but I’m already in love

Already in love
Already in love
Already in love

Never shook Satan’s hand, look, see for yourself
You’d know it if I had, that shit don’t come off
I’ll rise and fall, let me take credit for both
Jump off a cliff, don’t need your help so back off
I’ll never suck Satan’s dick;
Again, you’d see it, you know, right round the lips
I’ll wait for an angel, but I won’t hold my breath
Imagine they’re busy, think I’m doing okay

Already in love
Already in love
Already in love

All Vedder Tuesday

I am in a quagmire of depression today, and for the past couple.  A sucking swamp that is not just draining mood — that could be dealt with more easily — but the swamp doesn’t only suck.  It is also vomiting, projecting feelings of foolishness, betrayal, disgust, and embarrassment at being made a fool of, culminating in self-destructive impulses and a predilection for near-catatonia that my psychiatrist described yesterday as “a stressor-induced relapse”.  It is very hard to write right now — I’m not writing anything else, for instance — and the ritual of Vedder Tuesday is my crutch to type anything at all today.

In all fairness, to be topically accurate, the lyrics should be for Hail Hail.  But not tonight.  Maybe later, but anger is not what I’m feeling right now.  What I’m feeling is this:

Indifference

I will light a match this morning so I won’t be alone
Watch as she lies silent, for soon light will be gone
I will stand arms outstretched, pretend I’m free to roam
I will make my way through one more day in hell

How much difference does it make?
How much difference does it make?

I will hold the candle till it burns up my arm
I’ll keep taking punches until their will grows tired
I will stare the sun down until my eyes go blind
I won’t change direction, and I won’t change my mind

How much difference does it make?
How much difference does it make?
How much difference….?

I’ll swallow poison, until I grow immune
I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room

How much difference…?
How much difference…?
How much difference does it make?
How much difference does it make?

Amen.

All Vedder Tuesday

For week four, a song that should, I believe, just have been a poem to begin with.  A poem published two years into the Bush Ⅱ regime.  Here it is, without music:

Sleight of Hand

Routine was the theme; he’d wake up, wash, and pour himself into uniform
Something he hadn’t imagined being
As the merging traffic passed he found himself staring down at his own hands
Not remembering the change.  Not recalling the plan.  Was it…?

He was okay, but wondering about wandering
Was it age?  By consequence?  Or was he moved by sleight of hand?

Mondays were made to fall.  Lost on a road he knew by heart,
It was like a book he read in his sleep.  Endlessly.
Sometimes he hid in the radio, watching others pull into their homes,
While he was drifting.

On a line of his own.  Off the line, on the side.  By the by.
As dirt turned to sand
As if moved by sleight of hand

When he reached the shore of his clip-on world he resurfaced to the norm
Organized his few things; his coat and keys
And he knew realizations would have to wait
Till he had more time.  More time.

A time to dream to himself.  He waves goodbye to himself;
“I’ll see you on the other side” –
Another man moved by sleight of hand

All Vedder Tuesday

I am … still ….

I don’t really know how to express my emotions about Pearl Jam’s Backspacer.  Everything I try to come out with sounds like lolspeak.  The album is sublime.  For years all the fans have felt that they had a Led Zeppelin IV in them, and we were holding out for it.  Turns out, they had an album of “John Lennon with The Who” in them.  And, it turns out, that’s better.

Backspacer is brave but vulnerable; hopeful but humble; honest but never strident; drenched in rain but wanting to sing anyway … or maybe because.  Emerson wrote:

In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty.  Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this.  They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side.  Else, to-morrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another.

But Emerson was a jerk, and Ed isn’t.  I quote this not because Ed is speaking what I have thought and felt; no, I have so much to learn from him that I’m ever catching up.  But rather, Ed puts himself on the line, singing, without affectation, what is in his heart, even if he has not heard it before in the voices of geniuses.  He would be the first to disclaim his own genius, to disclaim wisdom.  He would likely say, as he does twice on this album, that he’s just another human being.  All he’s doing is speaking the truth as he currently understands it.  But maybe — but probably — that’s what wisdom and genius are.

“All that’s sacred,” he said fifteen years ago, “comes from youth.”  But this is an adult’s album.  Not an album for adults, though I am sure it will be.  No, rather the album of an adult.  Indeed, if we are fortunate, it will also be the album of some youths.  Maybe they will be able to learn that while it is important for their elders to understand their angst, that maybe they can trust some of their elders’ accumulated wisdom.  “I still remember,” he said those 15 years ago.  And I’m sure he still does.  But his vantage point has changed.  I hope that his listeners’ will be changed also.  But that’s really outside the scope of what I want control over.  What I want is for mine to change.

Why deny this drive inside?
Just looking for some peace

Thank you, Ed.  Thank you for having the courage not to deny it.  And keep looking.  I’ll keep listening.

Oh, wow.  The new album, Backspacer.  Uplifting, consistent, melodic, hopeful, full of love and joi de vivre.  I want to write at length about the album, and I will.  But for my third Tuesday Vedder, I can think of nothing more appropriate than a song from the new album.

Amongst The Waves

What used to be a house of cards has turned into a reservoir
Saved the tears that were waterfalling
Let’s go swim tonight, darling
And once outside the undertow, just you and me and nothing more
If not for love I would be drowning
I’ve seen it work both ways, but I am up,

Riding high amongst the waves
I can feel like I have a soul that has been saved
I can feel like I put away my early grave
I gotta say it now
Better loud than too late

Remember back the early days when you were young and thus amazed?
Suddenly the channel changed the first time you saw blood
Cut to later, now you’re strong, you’ve bled yourself, the wounds are gone
It’s rare when there is nothing wrong
Survived and you’re amongst the fittest, love ain’t love until you give it up

Riding high amongst the waves
I can feel like I have a soul that has been saved
I can see the light coming through the clouds in rays
I gotta say it now
Better loud than too late

Riding high amongst the waves
I can feel like I have a soul that has been saved
I can see the light coming through the clouds in rays
I gotta say it now
Better loud than too late

I gotta say it now
I gotta say it now
I gotta say it now
Better loud than too late

All Vedder Tuesday episodes

Second week — for a new tradition, I’ve made it past “one”, which is always an accomplishment.

In My Tree

Up here in my tree
Newspapers matter not to me
No more crowbars to my head
I’m trading stories with the leaves instead

I wave to all my friends
They don’t seem to notice me
All their eyes trained on the street
Sidewalks, cigarettes, and scenes

Up here so high I start to shake
Up here so high the sky I scrape
I’m so high I hold just one breath
here within my chest,
just like innocence.

I remember when
I swore I knew everything
They say knowledge is a tree
It’s growing up just like me

I’m so light, the wind he shakes.
I’m so high, the sky I scrape.
I’m so light I hold just one breath
and go back to my nest
sleep with innocence.

Up here so high, the boughs they beak
Up here so high, the sky I scrape.
Had my eyes peeled both wide open
And I caught a glimpse
of my innocence,
got back my inner sense.

Got it
Still got it

All Vedder Tuesday episodes

I hereby declare a new mcgees.org tradition.  It’s Tuesday night.  So, you’ve gone and had your cheap tacos, your cheap beer, your free Redbox new release, whatever discounted Tuesday thing you have going.  You come home to settle in at your email, your Twitter account, or this very site.  And I’ll post the lyrics to a song by Mr. Ed, or Eddie, or Edward, or “Jerome Turner” Vedder, very famous frontman of Pearl Jam.  It will be a song that you may have heard, but probably never understood the lyrics to, because the best rock lyricist since Dylan sounds like he’s singing underwater most of the time.

OK, so, how do I know what he’s saying?  Yeah, good question.  Once in a while we are graced with lyrics in liner notes.  Otherwise, aggregates of other peoples’ guesses help.  Wikia brings the collective power of wikitude to the task.  Lots of live recordings with him emphasizing different words helps.  But his lyrics change over time, sometimes have simultaneous variants, and, in one dramatic case, (probably) different lyrics every time, and (possibly) Ed himself doesn’t know what he’s saying (an attempt at that transcription will never show up on this program.)  Then there is what I want him to be saying.  So, sometimes I’ll be wrong, and, if this is a successful series, sometimes you will be right, and maybe we can get spirited exegetical discussions going (I refer you — vaguely — to a throwaway line in Infinite Jest involving parents, parsing, Pearl Jam, and R.E.M..  Help, Dave?)

Criterion for selection?  Probably “what’s been playing in my head”.  I’m not front-loading this series; it gets decidedly better than this.

You with me?  Here we go.

I Got Shit

My lips are shaking, my nails are bit off
Been a month since I’ve heard myself talk
All the advances this life’s got on me:
Picture a cup in the middle of the sea

And I fight back in my mind
Never lets me be right
I got memories, I got shit
So much it don’t show

I walked the line
When you held me in that night
I walked the line
When you held my hand that night

An empty shell seems so easy to crack
Got all these questions, don’t know who I could even ask
So I’ll just lie alone and wait for the dream
Where I’m not ugly and you’re looking at me

And I’ll stay in bed
Oh, [???]
If just once, I could feel loved!
Oh, stare back at me!

I walked the line
When you held me in that night
I walked the line
When you held my hand that night
I walked the line
When you held me close that night
I paid the price; never held you in real life

The [???] may have the words “could’ve seen” in it.  Maybe a “you” towards the beginning.  He may be wishing that the other had seen something.  But I’ll stop now, because discussion belongs inside.

(I’m fucking around with Roman numerals — I’m going to be changing the “I” in the title to Unicode after the new post alerts get propagated — and I would be very interested to hear how the “I” in the title looks to you.)

All Vedder Tuesday episodes

Funny enough for a FPP, maybe:

I berated Ed Vedder for not using the subjunctive in the song Wishlist.  But every time I get self-righteous about the decline of the subjunctive mood, I consider these two sentences:

I see someone drowning and shout “He will die and no one shall save him!”

I am drowning and shout “I will die and no one shall save me!”

The former means “It is inevitable that he will die, and I am therefore distraught.”  The latter means “I insist that you allow me to die!”  And when you start to explain why the fuck that is, you start composing sentences like “Would and should are used in the same way as other preterite modal verbs in the apodosis clause when the conditional mood is being used”, and then it becomes a contest to see who should hit you with a brick, and who will.

I’m pretty sure the A/C adapter on my laptop is going bye-bye, and in an effort to not have it take my laptop with it, I’ve unplugged it.  My mom lent me a Mac which is simply awesome and is making me think of giving up Ubuntu.

Oh, wait, I think I meant kinda like a plastic toy with fewer keyboard shortcuts, but, still, THANKS MOM!

Diss diss diss Mac Mac Mac.  I know, I know.  Here it is in two sentences: “Everything the designers thought you should do is trivially easy.  Everything they didn’t want you to do is completely fucking impossible.”  If it’s a choice between “makes the easy stuff easy, the hard stuff impossible, and everything uniformly pretty” and “makes the easy stuff possible, the hard stuff possible, and every UI look like a different mongrel dog”, please sign me up for the latter.  Except — most of the easy stuff is easy now in Ubuntu, and it’s getting more handsome.

Anyway — I may not respond quickly to your attempts at contact.  But I love you anyway.  Some of you.  You know who you are.