philosophy in song

[iambiguous]

DIRGE
Bob Dylan

[b]I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed
You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road
The stage was set, the lights went out all around the old hotel
I hate myself for loving you and I’m glad the curtain fell.

I hate that foolish game we played and the need that was expressed
And the mercy that you showed to me, whoever would have guessed
I went out on Lower Broadway and I felt that place within
That hollow place where martyrs weep and angels play with sin.

Heard your songs of freedom and man forever stripped
Acting out his folly while his back is being whipped
Like a slave in orbit he’s beaten 'til he’s tame
All for a moment’s glory and it’s a dirty, rotten shame.

There are those who worship loneliness, I’m not one of them
In this age of fiberglass I’m searching for a gem
The crystall ball upon the wall hasn’t shown me nothing yet
I’ve paid the price of solitude but at least I’m out of debt.

I can’t recall a useful thing you ever did for me
'Cept pat me on the back one time when I was on my knees
We stared into each other’s eyes 'till one of us would break
No use to apologize, what difference would it make ?

So sing your praise of progress and of the Doom Machine
The naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be seen
Lady Luck who shines on me, will tell you where I’m at
I hate myself for loving you but I should get over that.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=u9ke1IxlNVU

[iambiguous]

duplicate post

[iambiguous]

OUTSIDER
Chumbawamba

[b]Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider
Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider

I’m not alone, you’re not alone
I’m not alone, you’re not alone

Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider
Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me
You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me

I’m not alone, you’re not alone
I’m not alone, you’re not alone

Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider
Outsider, outsider, outsider, outsider

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me
You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me
You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me
You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me

You see me, you hear me
There are millions think just like me[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=BDbZvOPuE7A

[iambiguous]

SHE’S LOST CONTROL
Joy Division

[b]Confusion in her eyes that says it all.
She’s lost control.
And she’s clinging to the nearest passer by,
She’s lost control.
And she gave away the secrets of her past,
And said I’ve lost control again,
And a voice that told her when and where to act,
She said I’ve lost control again.

And she turned around and took me by the hand and said,
I’ve lost control again.
And how I’ll never know just why or understand,
She said I’ve lost control again.
And she screamed out kicking on her side and said,
I’ve lost control again.
And seized up on the floor, I thought she’d die.
She said I’ve lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.

Well I had to 'phone her friend to state my case,
And say she’s lost control again.
And she showed up all the errors and mistakes,
And said I’ve lost control again.
But she expressed herself in many different ways,
Until she lost control again.
And walked upon the edge of no escape,
And laughed I’ve lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.
She’s lost control again.
She’s lost control.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=IizFCNZMThA

[iambiguous]

THE BOY IN THE BUBBLE
Paul Simon

[b]It was a slow day
And the sun was beating
On the soldiers by the side of the road
There was a bright light
A shattering of shop windows
The bomb in the baby carriage
Was wired to the radio

These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry

It was a dry wind
And it swept across the desert
And it curled into the circle of birth
And the dead sand
Falling on the children
The mothers and the fathers
And the automatic earth
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry

It’s a turn-around jump shot
It’s everybody jump start
It’s every generation throws a hero up the pop charts
Medicine is magical and magical is art
The Boy in the Bubble
And the baby with the baboon heart

And I believe
These are the days of lasers in the jungle
Lasers in the jungle somewhere
Staccato signals of constant information
A loose affiliation of millionaires
And billionaires and baby
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=e26qTIydkG0

[d63]

It seems to me that any song, from a Beethoven Symphony down to a commercial jingo, can have philosophical implications in that they, like any other art form, are always value statements. You simply cannot talk about appeal without talking about the underlying values. Once again, we return to my revision of Durrant’s topics of philosophy in that I group ethics and aesthetics together (or ethics/aesthetics) -that which is the last step before the political/social.

There is always a semiology, or system of signs, at work.

[d63]

@iambiguous

THE BOY IN THE BUBBLE
Paul Simon

[b]It was a slow day
And the sun was beating
On the soldiers by the side of the road
There was a bright light
A shattering of shop windows
The bomb in the baby carriage
Was wired to the radio

These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry

It was a dry wind
And it swept across the desert
And it curled into the circle of birth
And the dead sand
Falling on the children
The mothers and the fathers
And the automatic earth
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry

It’s a turn-around jump shot
It’s everybody jump start
It’s every generation throws a hero up the pop charts
Medicine is magical and magical is art
The Boy in the Bubble
And the baby with the baboon heart

And I believe
These are the days of lasers in the jungle
Lasers in the jungle somewhere
Staccato signals of constant information
A loose affiliation of millionaires
And billionaires and baby
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=e26qTIydkG0

Actually, ambig, this was the song I was going to quote as being an example of a modern form of Zeitgeist, or what I like to call sear -or maybe even cultural sear. IT’s one of those qualities that you can never exactly put into words, but always has the feel of “these are the days”. Other songs I would include in this category are:

The Allman Brothers: Midnight Cowboy

David Essex: Rock On

David Bowie: Gene Genie and Golden Years

Free: It’s alright now

ZZ Top: La Grange and Jesus Just Left Chicago

The Talking Heads: Once in a Lifetime

Led Zeppelin: Nobodies Fault but Mine, For Your Life, and When the Levi Breaks

(And actually, The Sex PIstols and Anarchy in the UK had the feel even though I lacked the sensibility to actually get it(

and ACDC managed it mainly when Bon Scott was with them: Ride On, Highway to Hell, and Ain’t No Fun Waiting Around to be a Millionaire

Bob Dylan: Tangled up in Blue, Shelter From the Storm, and Knocking on Heaven’s door

Definitely Janis Joplin: Mercedes Benz

Of course, Jimi Hendrix done it with Machine Gun much as Muddy Waters done it with Rolling Stone.

And, of course, the Stones had a lot of them: You Got to Move, Can’t You Hear Me Knocking, , Can’t Always Get What You Want, and the list goes on.

There have also been later examples of sear:

Pearl Jam: Daughter

Soundgarden: Spoonman

White Zombie: More Human than Human -in fact, I would argue the whole Astro-Creep 2000 Album( it had a kind of profluence that has yet to be matched.

Beastie Boys: Whatcha Want

(And, looking back, Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors had that quality as mellow as it was)

And I’m quite sure bands like Ministry (Just One Fix) and Tricky (Aftermath) have come close.

Now we have newer bands like The Vacationers (Trip) and the White Stripes who are working towards it. Death Cab for Cutie comes damn close with Cath.

And going back, Sheryl Crow touched it several times with her Tuesday Night Fun Club album and the one that followed which, as far as I’m concerned, established her as one of the better lyricists around. And as you point out in your choice of Boy in the Bubble, lyrics do play a major role in the experience of sear or Zeitgeist.

[d63]

Would close with what I usually do,

but have decided against it:

anyway:

love ya man!

Gotta go…

[iambiguous]

@d63

It seems to me that any song, from a Beethoven Symphony down to a commercial jingo, can have philosophical implications in that they, like any other art form, are always value statements. You simply cannot talk about appeal without talking about the underlying values. Once again, we return to my revision of Durrant’s topics of philosophy in that I group ethics and aesthetics together (or ethics/aesthetics) -that which is the last step before the political/social.

There is always a semiology, or system of signs, at work.

To me, a song can bring our thoughts and feelings down to earth [or soaring up into the stratosphere] in a way that Durant’s “epistemologists” never seem able to grasp.

Emile Cioran:

If everything is a lie, is illusory, then music itself is a lie, but the superb lie…As long as you listen to it, you have the feeling that it is the whole universe, that everything ceases to exist, there is only music. But then when you stop listening, you fall back into time and wonder, ‘well, what is it? What state was I in?’ You had felt it was everything, and then it all disappeared.

[iambiguous]

TAXI
Harry Chapin

[b]It was raining hard in 'Frisco,
I needed one more fare to make my night.
A lady up ahead waved to flag me down,
She got in at the light.
Oh, where you going to, my lady blue,
It’s a shame you ruined your gown in the rain.
She just looked out the window, and said
“Sixteen Parkside Lane”.
Something about her was familiar
I could swear I’d seen her face before,
But she said, “I’m sure you’re mistaken”
And she didn’t say anything more.

It took a while, but she looked in the mirror,
And she glanced at the license for my name.
A smile seemed to come to her slowly,
It was a sad smile, just the same.
And she said, “How are you Harry?”
I said, “How are you Sue?
Through the too many miles
and the too little smiles
I still remember you.”

It was somewhere in a fairy tale,
I used to take her home in my car.
We learned about love in the back of the Dodge,
The lesson hadn’t gone too far.
You see, she was gonna be an actress,
And I was gonna learn to fly.
She took off to find the footlights,
And I took off to find the sky.

Oh, I’ve got something inside me,
To drive a princess blind.
There’s a wild man, wizard,
He’s hiding in me, illuminating my mind.
Oh, I’ve got something inside me,
Not what my life’s about,
Cause I’ve been letting my outside tide me,
Over 'till my time, runs out.

Baby’s so high that she’s skying,
Yes she’s flying, afraid to fall.
I’ll tell you why baby’s crying,
Cause she’s dying, aren’t we all.

There was not much more for us to talk about,
Whatever we had once was gone.
So I turned my cab into the driveway,
Past the gate and the fine trimmed lawns.
And she said we must get together,
But I knew it’d never be arranged.
And she handed me twenty dollars,
For a two fifty fare, she said
“Harry, keep the change.”

Well another man might have been angry,
And another man might have been hurt,
But another man never would have let her go…
I stashed the bill in my shirt.
And she walked away in silence,
It’s strange, how you never know,
But we’d both gotten what we’d asked for,
Such a long, long time ago.
You see, she was gonna be an actress
And I was gonna learn to fly.
She took off to find the footlights,
And I took off for the sky.

And here, she’s acting happy,
Inside her handsome home.
And me, I’m flying in my taxi,
Taking tips, and getting stoned,
I go flying so high, when I’m stoned.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=IfqjKDRQvWI

[iambiguous]

FAITH
The Cure

[b]Catch me if I fall
I’m losing hold
I can’t just carry on this way
And every time
I turn away
Lose another blind game
The idea of perfection holds me
Suddenly I see you change
Everything at once
The same
But the mountain never moves

Rape me like a child
Christened in blood
Painted like an unknown saint
There’s nothing left but hope
Your voice is dead
And old
And always empty
Trust in me through closing years
Perfect moments wait
If only we could stay
Please
Say the right words
Or cry like the stone white clown
And stand
Lost forever in a happy crowd

No one lifts their hands
No one lifts their eyes
Justified with empty words
The party just gets better and better

I went away alone
With nothing left
But faith
Nothing left but faith
Nothing left but faith
Nothing left but faith…[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=bNsn-4Lkn-c

[iambiguous]

ONE HUNDRED YEARS
The Cure

[b]It doesn’t matter if we all die
Ambition in the back of a black car
In a high building there is so much to do
Going home time
A story on the radio

Something small falls out of your mouth
And we laugh
A prayer for something better
A prayer
For something better

Please love me
Meet my mother
But the fear takes hold
Creeping up the stairs in the dark
Waiting for the death blow
Waiting for the death blow
Waiting for the death blow

Stroking your hair as the patriots are shot
Fighting for freedom on television
Sharing the world with slaughtered pigs
Have we got everything?
She struggles to get away . . .

The pain
And the creeping feeling
A little black haired girl
Waiting for Saturday
The death of her father pushing her
Pushing her white face into the mirror
Aching inside me
And turn me round
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Just like the old days

Caressing an old man
And painting a lifeless face
Just a piece of new meat in a clean room
The soldiers close in under a yellow moon
All shadows and deliverance
Under a black flag
A hundred years of blood
Crimson
The ribbon tightens round my throat
I open my mouth
And my head bursts open
A sound like a tiger thrashing in the water
Thrashing in the water
Over and over
We die one after the other
Over and over
We die one after the other
One after the other
One after the other
One after the other
One after the other

It feels like a hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
One hundred years[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=wSr0aeHYMSc

[iambiguous]

WORDY RAPPINGHOOD
Tom Tom Club

[b]What are words worth?
What are words worth? - words

Words in papers, words in books
Words on tv, words for crooks
Words of comfort, words of peace
Words to make the fighting cease
Words to tell you what to do
Words are working hard for you
Eat your words but don’t go hungry
Words have always nearly hung me

What are words worth?
What are words worth? - words

Words of nuance, words of skill
And words of romance are a thrill
Words are stupid, words are fun
Words can put you on the run

Mots pressés, mots sensés,
Mots qui disent la vairité mots maudits, mots mentis,
Mots qui manquent le fruit d’esprit

What are words worth?
What are words worth? - words

It’s a rap race, with a fast pace
Concrete words, abstract words
Crazy words and lying words
Hazy words and dying words
Words of faith and tell me straight
Rare words and swear words
Good words and bad words

What are words worth?
What are words worth? - words

Words can make you pay and pay
Four-letter words I cannot say
Panty, toilet, dirty devil
Words are trouble, words are subtle
Words of anger, words of hate
Words over here, words out there
In the air and everywhere
Words of wisdom, words of strife
Words that write the book I like
Words won’t find no right solution
To the planet earth’s pollution
Say the right word, make a million
Words are like a certain person
Who can’t say what they mean
Don’t mean what they say
With a rap rap here and a rap rap there
Here a rap, there a rap
Everywhere a rap rap

Rap it up for the common good
Let us enlist the neighbourhood
It’s okay, I’ve overstood
This is a wordy rappinghood, okay, bye.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=blBDWv1y7_g

[d63]

@iambiguous

@d63

It seems to me that any song, from a Beethoven Symphony down to a commercial jingo, can have philosophical implications in that they, like any other art form, are always value statements. You simply cannot talk about appeal without talking about the underlying values. Once again, we return to my revision of Durrant’s topics of philosophy in that I group ethics and aesthetics together (or ethics/aesthetics) -that which is the last step before the political/social.

There is always a semiology, or system of signs, at work.

To me, a song can bring our thoughts and feelings down to earth [or soaring up into the stratosphere] in a way that Durant’s “epistemologists” never seem able to grasp.

Emile Cioran:

If everything is a lie, is illusory, then music itself is a lie, but the superb lie…As long as you listen to it, you have the feeling that it is the whole universe, that everything ceases to exist, there is only music. But then when you stop listening, you fall back into time and wonder, ‘well, what is it? What state was I in?’ You had felt it was everything, and then it all disappeared.

This makes a lot more sense then you may realize given my present study of Rorty. For one, given that all attempts at some epistemological framework by which all right statements will be proven right and all wrong ones will be excluded has pretty much been a failure, that the only thing we really need to lead us to knowledge and understanding is discourse, music pretty much dances on the grave of epistemology by engaging in the discourse through that which has the ring of truth. And as Keats argues:

Beauty is truth; truth: beauty.

And we must give some credibility to the statement in that we generally accept philosophical statements based on a similar resonance. Take, for instance, The Boy in the Bubble. The lyrics clearly came together quickly in a stream of consciousness association of images, not so much connected logically (what does a boy in bubble have to do with lasers in the jungle?), but rather connected through feel. And yet it has the ring of truth in the same way any profound statement of philosophy might. I would suggest this reflects the only epistemology there really is: that of dreams, the way the mind likes to randomly juxtaposition psychic elements together until it finds patterns that resonate with it. And how is this any different than what we do with philosophy?

Which brings me to my other point: given that music is part of the discourse, and that it works primarily through resonance and seduction, and that it does so overwhelmingly, and given that philosophy has failed to make itself a ground for all other disciplines, why would it be any less the case with philosophy? The analytics and logical positivists may have thought they bypassed this by making their part of the discourse more like mathematics. But that triumph is only a product of leaving certain important (but messy) phenomena out, such as the general human experience. And why did they choose this course? Because they wanted to establish a certain sense of order? Because it seduced and resonated with them?

[iambiguous]

@d63

This makes a lot more sense then you may realize given my present study of Rorty. For one, given that all attempts at some epistemological framework by which all right statements will be proven right and all wrong ones will be excluded has pretty much been a failure, that the only thing we really need to lead us to knowledge and understanding is discourse, music pretty much dances on the grave of epistemology by engaging in the discourse through that which has the ring of truth. And as Keats argues:

Beauty is truth; truth: beauty.

And we must give some credibility to the statement in that we generally accept philosophical statements based on a similar resonance. Take, for instance, The Boy in the Bubble. The lyrics clearly came together quickly in a stream of consciousness association of images, not so much connected logically (what does a boy in bubble have to do with lasers in the jungle?), but rather connected through feel. And yet it has the ring of truth in the same way any profound statement of philosophy might. I would suggest this reflects the only epistemology there really is: that of dreams, the way the mind likes to randomly juxtaposition psychic elements together until it finds patterns that resonate with it. And how is this any different than what we do with philosophy?

Which brings me to my other point: given that music is part of the discourse, and that it works primarily through resonance and seduction, and that it does so overwhelmingly, and given that philosophy has failed to make itself a ground for all other disciplines, why would it be any less the case with philosophy? The analytics and logical positivists may have thought they bypassed this by making their part of the discourse more like mathematics. But that triumph is only a product of leaving certain important (but messy) phenomena out, such as the general human experience. And why did they choose this course? Because they wanted to establish a certain sense of order? Because it seduced and resonated with them?

The beauty of music: it takes you toward this while, at the same, taking you a million miles away.

Don’t think, listen. Yet, while you listen, you might never think more clearly.

[iambiguous]

NOT THE LOVING KIND
Buffy Sainte-Marie

[b]I gotta get me a sewing machine
Sew you a shirt of black
‘‘Do not love’’ across the front
And all across the back!
To remind me, yea,
That you’re not the lovin’ kind.
To remind me, yea-yea-yeaa!
That you’re not the lovin’ kind!

I’m gonna get me a ribbon, honey, honey!
Made of red
Tie it around my finger, baby,
Or maybe around my bed
To remind me…
That you’re not the lovin’ kind
To remind me…
That you’re not the lovin’ kind!

I think i’ve learned your secret
That keeps from getting BURNED
Love for you is a matter of low deposit
And NO returns!
Yeahhh!
I know you’re not the lovin’ kind
oh, oh,oh ,oh, oh, ohhh, yes!
You’re so heavy on my mind

HEY, you put rocks in my pillow!
You put rocks and blocks and bolders!
I gotta get me a ‘‘Do not love’’ sign, honey,
And i’ll hang it from your shoulders!
To remind me…yeah!
That you’re not the lovin’ kind!
To remind me…
You’re so heavy on my mind.[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=TAh5BjaDS8Y

[iambiguous]

THE RIVER
Bruce Springsteen

[b]I come from down in the valley where mister when you’re young
They bring you up to do like your daddy done
Me and mary we met in high school when she was just seventeen
Wed ride out of that valley down to where the fields were green

Wed go down to the river
And into the river wed dive
Oh down to the river wed ride

Then I got mary pregnant and man that was all she wrote
And for my nineteen birthday I got a union card and a wedding coat
We went down to the courthouse and the judge put it all to rest
No wedding day smiles no walk down the aisle
No flowers no wedding dress
That night we went down to the river
And into the river wed dive
On down to the river we did ride

I got a job working construction for the johnstown company
But lately there aint been much work on account of the economy
Now all them things that seemed so important
Well mister they vanished right into the air
Now I just act like I don’t remember, mary acts like she don’t care
But I remember us riding in my brothers car
Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir
At night on them banks I’d lie awake
And pull her close just to feel each breath she’d take
Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true
Or is it something worse that sends me
Down to the river though I know the river is dry
Down to the river, my baby and i
Oh down to the river we ride[/b]

youtube.com/watch?v=nAB4vOkL6cE
youtube.com/watch?v=pDjQRgoOcpk

[Moreno]

You know it’s all beginning
(It’s all beginning)
To feel like It’s ending
(Feels like It’s ending)
No loves as random
As God’s love
I can’t stand it
I can’t stand it

Wilco

[d63]

@iambiguous

@d63

This makes a lot more sense then you may realize given my present study of Rorty. For one, given that all attempts at some epistemological framework by which all right statements will be proven right and all wrong ones will be excluded has pretty much been a failure, that the only thing we really need to lead us to knowledge and understanding is discourse, music pretty much dances on the grave of epistemology by engaging in the discourse through that which has the ring of truth. And as Keats argues:

Beauty is truth; truth: beauty.

And we must give some credibility to the statement in that we generally accept philosophical statements based on a similar resonance. Take, for instance, The Boy in the Bubble. The lyrics clearly came together quickly in a stream of consciousness association of images, not so much connected logically (what does a boy in bubble have to do with lasers in the jungle?), but rather connected through feel. And yet it has the ring of truth in the same way any profound statement of philosophy might. I would suggest this reflects the only epistemology there really is: that of dreams, the way the mind likes to randomly juxtaposition psychic elements together until it finds patterns that resonate with it. And how is this any different than what we do with philosophy?

Which brings me to my other point: given that music is part of the discourse, and that it works primarily through resonance and seduction, and that it does so overwhelmingly, and given that philosophy has failed to make itself a ground for all other disciplines, why would it be any less the case with philosophy? The analytics and logical positivists may have thought they bypassed this by making their part of the discourse more like mathematics. But that triumph is only a product of leaving certain important (but messy) phenomena out, such as the general human experience. And why did they choose this course? Because they wanted to establish a certain sense of order? Because it seduced and resonated with them?

The beauty of music: it takes you toward this while, at the same, taking you a million miles away.

Don’t think, listen. Yet, while you listen, you might never think more clearly.

Hard to disagree with that.

Plus that, I tend to think best when there is music in the background.

It makes thought dance.

[d63]

And why shouldn’t it?