I could have sworn a dozen times over that "There is a Mountain" by Donovan had previously been on the Sunday Service but it seems not. This is a lovely little song, based on a Zen aphorism, with added lyrics that have a imagistic/haiku feel.
The song's origins go way down the alley. Wikipedia nails it, so here's the details:
The lyrics refer to a Buddhist saying originally formulated by Qingyuan Weixin, later translated by D.T. Suzuki in his Essays in Zen Buddhism, one of the first books to popularize Buddhism in Europe and the US. Qingyuan writes
Before I had studied Chan (Zen) for thirty years, I saw mountains as mountains, and rivers as rivers. When I arrived at a more intimate knowledge, I came to the point where I saw that mountains are not mountains, and rivers are not rivers. But now that I have got its very substance I am at rest. For it's just that I see mountains once again as mountains, and rivers once again as rivers.
The lock upon my garden gate's a snail, that's what it is
The lock upon my garden gate's a snail, that's what it is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
The caterpillar sheds his skin to find a butterfly within
Caterpillar sheds his skin to find a butterfly within
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain
Oh Juanita, oh Juanita, oh Juanita, I call your name Ah Oh,
The snow will be a blinding sight to see, as it lies on yonder hillside.
The lock upon my garden gate's a snail, that's what it is
The lock upon my garden gate's a snail, that's what it is
Caterpillar sheds his skin to find a butterfly within
Caterpillar sheds his skin to find a butterfly within
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain
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Fuji san by Maki_C30D
making mountains rise
in the clouds...
cawing crow
Look for awhile at the China Cat Sunflower
proud-walking jingle in the midnight sun
Copper-dome Bodhi drip a silver kimono
like a crazy-quilt stargown
through a dream night wind
Krazy Kat peeking through a lace bandana
like a one-eyed Cheshire
like a diamond-eye Jack
A leaf of all colors plays
a golden string fiddle
to a double-e waterfall over my back
Comic book colors on a violin river
crying Leonardo words
from out a silk trombone
I rang a silent bell
beneath a shower of pearls
in the eagle wing palace
of the Queen Chinee
[Editor's note: Usually, the Sunday Service is good old fashioned, light weight rock n' roll fun. Inadvertently, today's posting unearthed a serious topic, serious beyond the usual "literary" serious, and what results below was something of a struggle. It is neither meant to offend nor to preach - more than likely, it's come up short in its intent. Just sayin'.]
You can find more information than you could ever want, on this song or any other in their repertoire, at the Grateful Annotated Lyrics site, one of the most amazing sites dedicated to the works of a particular rock group or personality. Among the many things pointed out there is the somewhat oblique inspiration of the work of Edith Sitwell on "China Cat Sunflower." The song makes it on this list because of the obvious reference to Lewis Carroll (the one-eyed Cheshire) but for the Sitwell, one must dig a bit deeper.
According to the Dead lyric site, Robert Hunter, the Dead's lyricist, mentions Sitwell's influence on the lyrics, with a special mention of the following poem, "Polka":
Polka Dame Edith Sitwell
'Tra la la la la la la la
La
La!
See me dance the polka,'
Said Mr. Wagg like a bear,
With my top hat
And my whiskers that--
(Tra la la la) trap the Fair.
Where the waves eem chiming haycocks
I dance the polka; there
Stand Venus' children in their gay frocks--
Maroon and marine--and stare
To see me fire my pistol
Through the distances blue as my coat;
Like Wellington, Byron, the Marquis of Bristol,
Buzbied great trees float.
While the wheezing hurdy-gurdy
Of the marine wind blows me
To the tune of Annie Rooney, sturdy,
Over the sheafs of sea;
And bright as a seedsman's packet
With zinnias, candytufts chill,
Is Mrs. Marigold's jacket
As she gapes at the inn door still,
Where at dawn in the box of the sailor,
Blue as the decks of the sea,
Nelson awoke, crowed like the cocks,
Then back to dust sank he.
And Robinson Crusoe
Rues so
The bright and foxy beer--
But he finds fresh isles in a Negress' smiles--
The poxy doxy dear,
As they watch me dance the polka,'
Said Mr. Wagg like a bear,
'In my top hat and my whiskers that--
Tra la la la, trap the Fair.
Tra la la la la--
Tra la la la la--
Tra la la la la la la la
La
La
La!'
In addition to the oblique references, it would seem that pacing and style were perhaps more influential than the actual lyrics themselves.
Another quote which Hunter mentions is from the Dame Edith Sitwell poem "Trio for Two Cats and a Trombone," which has a little more direct connection:
Hunter quotes Sitwell directly with "palace of the Queen Chinee," so I attempted to run down the term "Chinee," which gives off a vague sense of the derogatory, though I'm not sure about it in the context of either the poem or song. Still, it should be noted; even if not meant offensively, ignorance, on anyone's part, is no legitimate defense.
A couple of databases of racial slurs listed the term as offensive, a couple of others did not; it evidently originated as a back formed singular for Chinese in the plural sense, but probably found bigoted popularity in the inability of Chinese people to speak English well, thereby mimicking their pronunciation of English in a derogatory way. Another source defined the term as a Chinese person living in England.
[More on the Sitwell, after a bit of investigation. "Trio for Cats and a Trombone" was part of a larger musical piece called Façade, which was something of a scandal when initially performed. You can find a great deal of background on it here.
Evidently, after being variously condemned on its initial performance
(with Sitwell reciting the poems, through a megaphone protruding from a
curtain, to musical accompaniment), it became quite popular, going
through a number of reworkings and even being the basis for a ballet. Interestingly, Wikipedia, which goes into a great deal of detail, does not mention her use of ethnic terms.]
"Furthermore, either because she was satirizing the upper crust's casual
racism or because she shared it, Sitwell's verse does have some mildly
racist lines that are somewhat disturbing today. "
I thought about excluding the song because of all this, but it seemed more honest to face up to it and recognize it for what it is and put it out there to consider. Obviously, the Sitwell piece achieved fame in its own way. Certainly, "China Cat Sunflower" has long been one of the Dead's most popular tunes. I leave it to you to make what you will of Hunter's quote of Sitwell. From the Dead site, it appears to be pure homage. Perhaps, too, something is to be gleaned about late 60s America, around the time the Dead song was composed.
Here is the whole piece, Façade, which runs some 32 minutes in length:
Originally, today's Sunday Service was going to serve a dual purpose: to highlight the song "He's Gone" by the Grateful Dead and to point out a website that might be of interest to some folks: 30 Days of the Grateful Dead.
Unfortunately, the page is gone now (here's a nice summary of what it was) but, while it was available, the band posted a free song everyday for an entire month, over 5 hours of largely unreleased sound board material. About a month ago, I remembered the site and went and listened and it was great. Fortunately, I do have the version of "He's Gone" that was on the site and that's what you can listen to, above; I was particularly taken with it and, though not perfect, it is quite good. At nearly 14 minutes, it's a kickback and relax song to listen to leisurely and to appreciate for its many nuances - there is plenty of space in this song, that's space in a good, not noodley, way.
As noted at the Annotated "He's Gone" webpage, most American listeners would immediately think of Tennessee Williams "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" when they here the line "cat on a tin roof" and that's how it qualifies as this week's featured song.
Finally, apropos of nothing in particular except perhaps that good ol' west coast music connection, a little something for an end of summer Sunday. As amazing as Jorma is on the guitar, bass players take note: Jack Cassidy took back seat to no one. Hot Tuna at their very best:
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This week's featured poem from the archive comes from Lilliput Review, #73, from November 1995. Enjoy.
Grey Rain Day
Grey rain day in Austin, Texas.
The soul slips in and out,
never straying far
as though fearing the rain might catch it.
I dream over coffee,
something in the back of my mind,
some final perfect thought
that eludes me finally
slipping away
into the grey rain air.
This is at least the fourth time Neal Cassady has made an appearance on Issa's Sunday Service (previously here, here, and here) and that says boatloads about lots of things (he also got a mention on the Sunday Service here, though the song wasn't about him).
For the second week in a row, I'm featuring a song by a group I hadn't known 10 days before. Weather Underground I somehow stumbled on, possibly on youtube, but how I couldn't say. They are obscure enough to not even have a bio on allmusic, just some cursory info on their self-released discs, When I Was a Soldier and Psalms & Shanties, the last being where "Neal Cassady" comes from.
I particularly like the pacing of this song. Which got me to thinking about the musical approach of each of the bands to their enigmatic subject - is their any relation between Aztec Two-Step, King Crimson, the Grateful Dead, and The Weather Underground, musically, in how they portray Mr. C.?
Here they are all together:
And, because serendipity is the grease that works the wheel of magic, after putting this together, I stumbled across this article in The Guardian about a famous photo which I was familiar with but had no idea was of Cassady.
Photo by Lawrence Schiller
-----------------------------------------
This week's featured poem comes from Lilliput Review#83, November 1996. Dream on.
for Melanie
I called to confirm the calling dream,
the dream, the dream, the calling dream.
Kyle Christopher
(While typing this poem, this song came on the random mix of, oh, 14,000 or so songs. Never get in the way of a runaway train ...)
This week's selection is one I just ran across during the recent 30 Days of the Deadpromotion and really enjoyed. It is a serious Litrock song, with references to Hamlet that are professionally cited in the Annotated Althea lyrics from the truly amazing Annotated Dead Lyrics webpage. Attention to detail like this - well, the folks from the War on Drugs simply never give you the upside. Here's the verse relevant to Hamlet:
The referencing of Richard Lovelace's To Althea from Prison (1649) will set anybody back on their heels. The poem contains, among much else, the famed lines "stone walls do not a prison break / Nor iron bars a cage." Besides Hamlet and Lovelace, there is also the old folk song "Monday's Child" in the line "You may be Saturday's child all grown," as noted above. This one is jam packed and lovely, too.
This is the Dead's second appearance on the Sunday Service and, with this annotated site ready for detailed perusal, I'm sure it won't be the last. Let's cap this one with a live performance of said tune from 1982:
----------------
This week's selection from the Lilliput archive comes from issue #126, July 2002, and is from West Virginia poet, John McKernan. It is fine:
Distant Church Bell at Midnight
High C Butterfly
Of sound Larva
Of darkness Peeling off
Layer upon layer of silence
Twelve strokes That
Wooden hammer once
A tree The bell itself
Once flecks of lead & silver Hidden
It's week 52, a full year's worth of music with direct literary influences (LitRock) from Issa's Sunday Service. What better way to celebrate than with the Grateful Dead and their wonderful live cut, "Cassidy"?
The story behind "Cassidy" and it's odd spelling may be found here: Cassidy's Tale. Besides Neal Cassady, there is another Cassidy to which the song refers.
There you go.
It's hard to believe this is the first appearance by the Dead on the Sunday Service (though it isn't Neal Cassady's) - a few weeks back they did some backup up for the Reverend Gary Davis, but this is the first time as a headliner. The reason it seems appropriate to celebrate with a Dead song is their generosity over the years with their fans. Music as a shared, communal experience speaks volumes.
It's been an interesting year. Most of the 52 songs, with the exception of a few, can be heard on the Jukebox on the sidebar or at the Issa's Sunday Service homepage. The full list as they originally appeared may be found here. I had an interesting experience with one song; if you'd like to know the details, I'll be happy to supply them. Though you can hear it here, anytime. All I'll say is it's a good thing that the work of William Butler Yeats is out of copyright in the U.S. so this artist no longer will be accused of stealing and profiting, by violating copyright, as happened in the past (page down for details beginning with the 6th paragraph, especially the juicy bit about how said artist brags that his lyrics are better than Yeats).
I'm just saying.
To accompany the above tune, here's another live version of "Cassidy" from the Dead.
************************************
This week's feature poem comes from issue#78, March 1996 and is by Deloris Selinsky. Other poems from this issue were featured in two past posts.
Friday April 30th was the birthday of the Reverend Gary Davis and what better way to celebrate than with his live version at the Newport Folk Festival of the classic "Samson and Delilah," another example of litrock from the big book. For a man of the cloth, his incendiary performances were truly possessed, putting truth to many an adage about religion and the devil.
Speaking of devils, how's about a rock performance of the same song by the Grateful Dead? Here is a video of one of their better renditions of this little number. The dual drumming lead-in, Jerry's tasty licks, and a particularly fine vocal by Bob (I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find anything not embarrassing in comparison to the Reverend) make this well worth a view.
50 songs on the Sunday Service. Almost up to a year's worth. Who'd a thought? Has it been with the time and effort? Thanks to all for their suggestions. I've got a whole trunk full if I decide to keep it going. And I'm still offering the current two issues FREE for any song suggestions that make the cut.
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This week's feature poem comes from Lilliput Review#76, from January 1976. 14 years and it hasn't aged one minute and won't in even a millenia ... if there are still creeks around by then.
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