Dirty Blvd.: Issa's Sunday Service, #124

Perhaps it is appropriate, with the Occupy the World movement (including Sesame Street) in full swing, that this week's selection is Lou Reed's powerful "Dirty Blvd."  It is one of Lou's heavy narrative lyrics and he manages to turn Emma Lazarus "The New Colossus" on its head with a swift backhand:




The New Colossus

   Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
   With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
   Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
   A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
   Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
   Mother of Exiles.  From her beacon-hand
   Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
   The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,
   "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
   With silent lips.  "Give me your tired, your poor,
   Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
   The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
   Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
   I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

                     Emma Lazarus

In addition to paraphrasing lines to deadly effect, Lou renames the famous Statue itself:

Give me your hungry, your tired,
your poor I'll piss on 'em
That's what the Statue of Bigotry says
Your poor huddled masses
Let's club 'em to death
And get it over with
and just dump 'em on the boulevard

Never one to take prisoners, Lou's perspective is every bit as relevant today in light of the recent nationwide protests as it was in 1989 when it first appeared on his dynamite New York album.  We think of this as an urban problem, but obviously its universality is becoming more and more apparent.

Here is a version of "Dirty Blvd.," along with "White Light, White Heat," done as a duet with David Bowie on the occasion of the later's 50th birthday.








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This week's featured poem from the archive comes from Lilliput Review, #64, December 1964, which has been featured before here and here.   This is the 12th poem featured from that issue and it's a good one.

When Asked To Name The Seven
        Most Beautiful Words. . .

              carnelian
              quince
              cloud
              fire
              gillyflower
              cane
              dusk

             Jeanne Shannon

red clouds--
above the butterfly too
autumn dusk

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

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Golden Hair by Syd Barrett: Issa's Sunday Service, #72

Syd Barrett, the creative force behind the first, classic iteration of Pink Floyd and whose long shadow is still cast over the band's legacy to this day, made some excellent solo recordings.  They are, well, odd, as you might expect, as Syd was on a slippery slope downwards for quite sometime.  Yet his later songs are, occasionally, brilliant, as you also might expect, and this week's selection fits the bill.  Set to the words of James Joyce's 5th poem in his collection Chamber Music, "Golden Hair" is at once totally unexpected and very welcome.

   Golden Hair - James Joyce

    Lean out of the window,
    Goldenhair,
    I heard you singing
    A merry air.

    My book was closed;
    I read no more,
    Watching the fire dance
    On the floor.

    I have left my book,
    I have left my room,
    For I heard you singing
    Through the gloom.

    Singing and singing
    A merry air,
    Lean out the window,
    Goldenhair.

Here's a lengthy video in 2 parts, with some remarkable early footage of Floyd in performance, plus an interstellar ride through the times as they were:



Interstellar Overdrive, Part 1

Interstellar Overdrive, Part 2

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If you haven't seen the video of the entire new album Le Noise by Neil Young with Daniel Lanois producing, check it out below.  I would imagine it will only be up for so long.  If you don't have the time or inclination to watch the whole thing, at the 11:40 mark is a great acoustic song about war, titled "Love and War," that should not be missed (just discovered, though embedding is disabled, you can watch and listen to it separately on YouTube here:

Said a lot of things
That I can't take back
Don't really know if I wanna
Been songs about love
I sang songs about war
Since the backstreets of Toronto
I sang for justice
And I hit a bad chord
But I still try to sing
About love and war.

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This week's feature poem comes from Lilliput Review, #107, January 2000.  Enjoy.

December Dawn

The sun comes up

reining a bleak wind.

Love is never enough.

Love is all there is.

Jeanne Shannon

first winter rain--
the world fills up
with haiku

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue 

best,
Don

PS  Get 2 free issues     Get 2 more free issues     Lillie poem archive

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 72 songs
Hear all 72 at once on the the LitRock Jukebox