So Black 47 will be disbanding in October 2014 – or as one wag put it, “standing down.” It would certainly seem like that after all the controversy, but to us it’s always been about the music and creating something original.
That’s what Chris Byrne and I had in mind the first night we played the Bronx in October 1989. We were hired to knock out a couple of sets before a speech by Bernadette Devlin McAliskey, no stranger to controversy herself. In the midst of our Reggae tune, Desperate, some loudmouth demanded, “Play something Irish.” To which I replied, “I’m Irish, I wrote it, what does that make it?”
That challenge initiated a veritable war around Bainbridge and 204th Street for the next year. The punters wanted to hear The Pogues, The Saw Docs, The Waterboys – all great bands, but what point in looking back to Galway or London. We were from New York, the city of Miles Davis, Bob Dylan, Public Enemy. We were out to create something uniquely Irish-American – and we did.
It wouldn’t have happened, though, without those battles in the Bronx. Within a year we were opening for The Pogues in London, much of the audience screaming, “Get Off!” before we’d even played a note. But that was child’s play compared to 200 pounds of an irate Connemara man waving a bottle in your face in the Village Pub because you wouldn’t play Fisherman’s Blues. We just turned up the amplifiers to eleven and gave them an earful of Home of the Brave; there are Pogues fans in Camden Town still complaining of deafness.
Oscar Wilde said unless people don’t like what you’re doing, you’re not original. That man never played The Roaring Twenties on a hungover Monday night to test his theory. But we did!
Eventually we gained our own large following, though we never lost the “unconverted,” so I guess we’re still doing something right. It was an amazing trajectory from Bainbridge to Leno, Letterman, O’Brien, Farm Aid with Johnny Cash and Neil Young, Joe Strummer saying we were the only band that mattered, and all the other highlights that we’ve been too busy to savor.
Even now we’re working on Last Call, an album of new songs, still trying to stretch the envelope. Because there’s no stasis in this business – you either move forward or you become irrelevant.
I don’t know how many gigs we’ve played – who had time to count – 2500 or more; and in the end, who cares? The songs will remain; they’ll speak for themselves and the times we chronicled. By my lights Chris Byrne’s Time To Go is the best protest song this side of Patriot Game. Think back to the early 90’s, the North of Ireland was a battle zone, Sinn Fein were pariahs. That song brings you right back there and says more in four minutes than any history book.
The first three years of the Iraq War were a low point. People were writing, “Thank you for protesting, I’ll lose my job if I do.” Talk about free speech!
What was often lost in the furor was that on the IRAQ CD we were merely retelling the stories of our fans over there doing the fighting. All water under the bridge now; everyone pumps their fist in the air to Downtown Baghdad Blues or smooches to Ramadi - everyone except wounded warriors and those who didn’t make it home.
Inevitably in a long passionate career there are tragedies: the casualties include our beloved soundman, Johnny Byrne. And who can forget the awful St. Patrick’s night at The Academy when a life was lost and two people seriously injured.
But then you think of the thousands of performances when we lit up venues from small pubs to stadiums. My favorite moment was the first time we played James Connolly in Paddy Reilly’s. In the dead silence that followed the song everyone knew that they’d heard something totally unique; how often do you experience that?
I hope you’ll come see us over the next year. Black 47 is always at its best when hammering out new songs. And though we’ve surely failed many times, we’ve never aspired to be anything less than the best!
Sunday, 6 October 2013
Tuesday, 1 October 2013
Fast Food Anyone?
What do you think about the fast-food workers walking off their jobs recently?
You can’t be worried over every little thing, right? If it’s not Syria, it’s the government closing down, and what with the NSA and Google scouring your emails, you’ve got enough on your plate. Besides you don’t really know anyone who works in McDonald’s or Burger King.
Well you might soon enough.
I first noticed the change in guard some years back in a god-forsaken rest stop on that nightmare called Route 95. It was the middle of the night and, as usual, the only joint open was the Golden Arches. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first but then realized that the cashier was in his late 40’s, the French-fry shoveler even older.
A recent report on teenage unemployment confirmed that many young people nowadays have to compete with older, more qualified, workers for entry-level, minimum pay jobs.
Since the Labor Department projects that 60% of new jobs created in the next seven years will be lower paying positions in retail, health care and such services it would behoove us all to take an interest in the fast-food token strike.
The real question is – how can anyone afford to work at McDonald’s and all other retailers that offer a buck or so above minimum wage? One would need a car to commute to the rest stop on Route 95; while apartment rents are just too high in most inner cities to be covered by such low paying jobs.
The minimum wage is currently $7.25 per hour. Republicans, as you might imagine, want no part of an increase. Meanwhile President Obama would prefer a bump to $9 and congressional democrats pine for $10.10 an hour; however, even these Dickensian raises would be phased in over a 30-month period. Are our politicians living in the real world?
Now you may be shedding tears for McDonald’s and wondering if I’m conspiring to drive the Golden Arches out of business – or even worse risking an increase in the cost of your Big Mac. But McDonald’s workers in Australia are paid $14 per hour, while even French franchises can afford $12.
Yes, they do charge some cents more per item, but they also provide benefits for all but part-time high school workers. So what gives?
It makes you wonder if those two stellar congressional legislators Paul Ryan and Kevin McCarthy - both of whom oppose a raise in the minimum wage - ever heard of their fellow Irish-American, Henry Ford.
Now Mr. Ford was far from a socialist. But he recognized the value of a middle-class employee. Pay them enough and they’ll have the wherewithal to buy your product!
That lesson seems to have been long forgotten. American workers have never been as productive, a.k.a. fewer workers are being paid less for more work. Not coincidentally, corporate profits are at an all time high and keep increasing each quarter.
Hallelujah for those invested in the stock market but what about those who must jingle for change in their pockets to top off a tank of gas or buy a subway card to travel to one of these minimum-wage jobs.
We now live in a service economy, driven by retail sales. The new patriotism demands that we all step up to the counter and spend. But that’s becoming increasingly difficult as we slither towards a minimum-wage culture.
It’s hard to understand why Americans are allowing their dreams of a middle- class life to evaporate with so little resistance. Placing their faith in politicians is the ultimate exercise in futility since both parties are funded by the monied corporate class.
Perhaps the humble fast-food workers are making the first real stand for economic sanity. In any case they deserve our support; with many estimates projecting that 50% of all US jobs will be on the lower end of the pay scale in 10 years, it may be only a matter of time, and a flip of the coin, before you or I will be out there protesting with them.
You can’t be worried over every little thing, right? If it’s not Syria, it’s the government closing down, and what with the NSA and Google scouring your emails, you’ve got enough on your plate. Besides you don’t really know anyone who works in McDonald’s or Burger King.
Well you might soon enough.
I first noticed the change in guard some years back in a god-forsaken rest stop on that nightmare called Route 95. It was the middle of the night and, as usual, the only joint open was the Golden Arches. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first but then realized that the cashier was in his late 40’s, the French-fry shoveler even older.
A recent report on teenage unemployment confirmed that many young people nowadays have to compete with older, more qualified, workers for entry-level, minimum pay jobs.
Since the Labor Department projects that 60% of new jobs created in the next seven years will be lower paying positions in retail, health care and such services it would behoove us all to take an interest in the fast-food token strike.
The real question is – how can anyone afford to work at McDonald’s and all other retailers that offer a buck or so above minimum wage? One would need a car to commute to the rest stop on Route 95; while apartment rents are just too high in most inner cities to be covered by such low paying jobs.
The minimum wage is currently $7.25 per hour. Republicans, as you might imagine, want no part of an increase. Meanwhile President Obama would prefer a bump to $9 and congressional democrats pine for $10.10 an hour; however, even these Dickensian raises would be phased in over a 30-month period. Are our politicians living in the real world?
Now you may be shedding tears for McDonald’s and wondering if I’m conspiring to drive the Golden Arches out of business – or even worse risking an increase in the cost of your Big Mac. But McDonald’s workers in Australia are paid $14 per hour, while even French franchises can afford $12.
Yes, they do charge some cents more per item, but they also provide benefits for all but part-time high school workers. So what gives?
It makes you wonder if those two stellar congressional legislators Paul Ryan and Kevin McCarthy - both of whom oppose a raise in the minimum wage - ever heard of their fellow Irish-American, Henry Ford.
Now Mr. Ford was far from a socialist. But he recognized the value of a middle-class employee. Pay them enough and they’ll have the wherewithal to buy your product!
That lesson seems to have been long forgotten. American workers have never been as productive, a.k.a. fewer workers are being paid less for more work. Not coincidentally, corporate profits are at an all time high and keep increasing each quarter.
Hallelujah for those invested in the stock market but what about those who must jingle for change in their pockets to top off a tank of gas or buy a subway card to travel to one of these minimum-wage jobs.
We now live in a service economy, driven by retail sales. The new patriotism demands that we all step up to the counter and spend. But that’s becoming increasingly difficult as we slither towards a minimum-wage culture.
It’s hard to understand why Americans are allowing their dreams of a middle- class life to evaporate with so little resistance. Placing their faith in politicians is the ultimate exercise in futility since both parties are funded by the monied corporate class.
Perhaps the humble fast-food workers are making the first real stand for economic sanity. In any case they deserve our support; with many estimates projecting that 50% of all US jobs will be on the lower end of the pay scale in 10 years, it may be only a matter of time, and a flip of the coin, before you or I will be out there protesting with them.
Wednesday, 11 September 2013
Brendan at the Chelsea
So Brendan is back – that’s Brendan Francis Behan. The noted actor Adrian Dunbar will strut the boards at the Acorn Theatre tonight in Brendan At The Chelsea, a play written by Janet Behan about her uncle.
I first became aware of Brendan when listening to the BBC news with my granny. A very proper announcer, in somewhat pained tones, was detailing the playwrights’s arrest in Toronto for “drunk and disorderly conduct.” To which the old lady shook her head despairingly and murmured, “He’s letting down the country again.”
At such a tender age I hadn’t seen any of Behan’s plays – still unfortunately the case for most people, for his work is not often produced nowadays. In fact it’s arguable that this working-class hero has currently more influence in rock music than theatre; no less a figure than Shane McGowan has modeled a sizeable chunk of his persona on the man.
It’s hard to know why Behan is not in theatrical favor; but then neither is the brilliant Joe Orton, whose work may be closest in style and, occasionally, substance. Perhaps their corrosive wit and establishment needling is too acidic for a community now so often influenced by the banality of television.
Whatever about theatre’s apathy there are any number of reasons why Irish people prefer to keep this inner-city Dubliner at arm’s length, politics being the most obvious. For Brendan Behan was an unrepentant Irish republican.
Ar the age of 16 he set off for England with the intention of blowing up the Liverpool docks; for his troubles he was sentenced to three years in a Borstal youth prison. Upon being deported back to Ireland he spent much time as a guest of former Republican, Éamon de Valera, at the Curragh Military Camp. No, indeed, Mr. Behan was not the type of person you would take home to your Fine Gael – or Fianna Fail, for that matter - mother in Dublin 4.
His politics did not bother the New York Irish during his visits but his drinking, carousing and negative publicity led to him being banned from the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. This lack of empathy caused him little concern for, as he explained, “I only drink on two occasions - when I’m thirsty and when I’m not.”
More damning, however, were the rumors of his bisexuality which did not sit easily with the wild Irish drinking lad stereotype. Perhaps Ms. Behan will do her uncle a service by airing out this issue and finally putting it to bed, as it were.
For it’s long past time for a reappraisal of Brendan, and indeed his equally brilliant brother, Dominic, one of Ireland’s greatest songwriters. What a family! Both brothers personalized the wit, honesty and general irrepressibility of the Irish people at a time when the soul of the country was being smothered by a conservative political and religious establishment.
And what storytellers! Brendan’s book, Borstal Boy, makes you feel that you really missed out by never having spent time in this grim penal environment. While his play, An Giall (later translated into the more outrageous The Hostage) hilariously lacerates the hypocritical Ireland of the 1950’s sparing few in its gleeful abandon.
And then, almost abruptly, Brendan seemed to run out of steam. Was alcoholism to blame? Hardly that alone for, like Hemingway, he could be hammering away at the typewriter at 7am after the most riotous of nights.
No, I think he was an early victims of celebrity, for he instinctively recognized the value of an outrageous public persona; but in the end that swaggering inebriated alter-ego siphoned off much of his energy leaving little for the artist struggling within. Tellingly enough, while in New York he lived in the Chelsea Hotel, a raffish place, but even in my day a poseur’s palace where reputation was more prized than talent.
Hopefully, Brendan At The Chelsea will mark a major step in a Brendan Behan renaissance. It’s been a long time coming for this very distinctive and authentic voice of the Irish people – now needed more than ever.
Brendan At The Chelsea, Acorn Theatre Row, 410 W. 42nd St. Sept. 4-Oct 6 Tickets 212-239-6200 brendanchelsea.com
I first became aware of Brendan when listening to the BBC news with my granny. A very proper announcer, in somewhat pained tones, was detailing the playwrights’s arrest in Toronto for “drunk and disorderly conduct.” To which the old lady shook her head despairingly and murmured, “He’s letting down the country again.”
At such a tender age I hadn’t seen any of Behan’s plays – still unfortunately the case for most people, for his work is not often produced nowadays. In fact it’s arguable that this working-class hero has currently more influence in rock music than theatre; no less a figure than Shane McGowan has modeled a sizeable chunk of his persona on the man.
It’s hard to know why Behan is not in theatrical favor; but then neither is the brilliant Joe Orton, whose work may be closest in style and, occasionally, substance. Perhaps their corrosive wit and establishment needling is too acidic for a community now so often influenced by the banality of television.
Whatever about theatre’s apathy there are any number of reasons why Irish people prefer to keep this inner-city Dubliner at arm’s length, politics being the most obvious. For Brendan Behan was an unrepentant Irish republican.
Ar the age of 16 he set off for England with the intention of blowing up the Liverpool docks; for his troubles he was sentenced to three years in a Borstal youth prison. Upon being deported back to Ireland he spent much time as a guest of former Republican, Éamon de Valera, at the Curragh Military Camp. No, indeed, Mr. Behan was not the type of person you would take home to your Fine Gael – or Fianna Fail, for that matter - mother in Dublin 4.
His politics did not bother the New York Irish during his visits but his drinking, carousing and negative publicity led to him being banned from the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. This lack of empathy caused him little concern for, as he explained, “I only drink on two occasions - when I’m thirsty and when I’m not.”
More damning, however, were the rumors of his bisexuality which did not sit easily with the wild Irish drinking lad stereotype. Perhaps Ms. Behan will do her uncle a service by airing out this issue and finally putting it to bed, as it were.
For it’s long past time for a reappraisal of Brendan, and indeed his equally brilliant brother, Dominic, one of Ireland’s greatest songwriters. What a family! Both brothers personalized the wit, honesty and general irrepressibility of the Irish people at a time when the soul of the country was being smothered by a conservative political and religious establishment.
And what storytellers! Brendan’s book, Borstal Boy, makes you feel that you really missed out by never having spent time in this grim penal environment. While his play, An Giall (later translated into the more outrageous The Hostage) hilariously lacerates the hypocritical Ireland of the 1950’s sparing few in its gleeful abandon.
And then, almost abruptly, Brendan seemed to run out of steam. Was alcoholism to blame? Hardly that alone for, like Hemingway, he could be hammering away at the typewriter at 7am after the most riotous of nights.
No, I think he was an early victims of celebrity, for he instinctively recognized the value of an outrageous public persona; but in the end that swaggering inebriated alter-ego siphoned off much of his energy leaving little for the artist struggling within. Tellingly enough, while in New York he lived in the Chelsea Hotel, a raffish place, but even in my day a poseur’s palace where reputation was more prized than talent.
Hopefully, Brendan At The Chelsea will mark a major step in a Brendan Behan renaissance. It’s been a long time coming for this very distinctive and authentic voice of the Irish people – now needed more than ever.
Brendan At The Chelsea, Acorn Theatre Row, 410 W. 42nd St. Sept. 4-Oct 6 Tickets 212-239-6200 brendanchelsea.com
Tuesday, 27 August 2013
19th Nervous Breakdown - 41st Futile Vote?
Congratulations to House Republicans, they have now voted forty times to repeal the Affordable Health Care Act (aka Obamacare). You cannot accuse them of giving up easily, despite the fact that this law of the land, passed by both houses of congress, was upheld as constitutional in a 2012 Supreme Court decision.
One might indeed sympathize with these intrepid representatives of the people had they not neglected to vote on funding for a transportation bill which attends to such minor details as building and maintaining roads, bridges, and the like. To add fat to the fire, because of their reluctance to compromise we are now skittering helter-skelter into a budget stand off that could result in a shut down of the federal government.
But not to worry! Apparently some members of their caucus hadn’t been afforded an opportunity of voting to repeal Obamacare and wished to make their views crystal clear for fear of a primary challenge from the Right.
My own preference is for a single payer system that would work somewhat like Medicare; but since this form of advanced Marxism is apparently only suitable for those 65 and over, Obamacare it is!
I have two main questions for the repeal diehards? Don’t you remember that the 2008 presidential election was contested in large part on the notion that the country could no longer suffer the messed-up, costly, discriminatory health insurance system of the time? And secondly, what exactly do they propose putting in place of Obamacare?
There is no going back to the old way, pathetic as it was. The health insurance companies want no part of it, basically because there are substantial profits to be made from the many millions who will enter the system when Obamacare finally gets rolling.
No solace either from the drug companies – they already cut a sweetheart deal with the president that, in return for $80 billion in savings over ten years, these uber-profitable pharmaceutical behemoths would not be troubled with overly burdensome regulations under the new law.
So what’s the plan, guys? I sometimes wonder if the representatives of the party of Abraham Lincoln and Dwight Eisenhower have even read the Affordable Health Care Act? They unanimously oppose the individual mandate that requires everyone to buy health insurance, yet this was originally a Republican idea proposed back in 1993 as an alternative to Hilary Clinton’s dreaded universal system. To top it all a Republican governor, Mitt Romney, put this Republican theory into practice in Massachusetts and it’s working quite well, thank you.
Furthermore, since the vast majority of the country already has employer-provided health care insurance Obamacare, for the most part, doesn’t even affect them. It does, however, bring relief to those with a previously diagnosed condition, and those under 26 – unemployed or self-employed - who can now remain covered under their parents’ policies.
Those without health insurance who tend to frequent emergency rooms - thus straining the finances of the nation’s hospitals - will be mandated to purchase individual policies. But early reports from many states suggest that annual premiums will drop as much as 70% due to competition from the newly formed health insurance exchanges.
True in a number of states premiums will rise but that’s mostly because some bare-boned systems need to be improved to provide coverage in line with national standards.
Some current policyholders may even be due a rebate because of an Obamacare clause that caps the profits of health insurance companies. But the biggest beneficiary from the new law may be the country’s economy. Anytime up to 40 million people are integrated more fully into the economic system, the country’s finances get a shot in the arm – new jobs are created, costs can be better contained, and the nation’s greatest resource, its people, are kept healthier.
So how about it, Republican members of congress, any chance of you using your considerable talents and energies to make this law of the land work better, or do I hear the shuffle of shoe leather as you head back to DC ready to cast your 41st futile vote?
One might indeed sympathize with these intrepid representatives of the people had they not neglected to vote on funding for a transportation bill which attends to such minor details as building and maintaining roads, bridges, and the like. To add fat to the fire, because of their reluctance to compromise we are now skittering helter-skelter into a budget stand off that could result in a shut down of the federal government.
But not to worry! Apparently some members of their caucus hadn’t been afforded an opportunity of voting to repeal Obamacare and wished to make their views crystal clear for fear of a primary challenge from the Right.
My own preference is for a single payer system that would work somewhat like Medicare; but since this form of advanced Marxism is apparently only suitable for those 65 and over, Obamacare it is!
I have two main questions for the repeal diehards? Don’t you remember that the 2008 presidential election was contested in large part on the notion that the country could no longer suffer the messed-up, costly, discriminatory health insurance system of the time? And secondly, what exactly do they propose putting in place of Obamacare?
There is no going back to the old way, pathetic as it was. The health insurance companies want no part of it, basically because there are substantial profits to be made from the many millions who will enter the system when Obamacare finally gets rolling.
No solace either from the drug companies – they already cut a sweetheart deal with the president that, in return for $80 billion in savings over ten years, these uber-profitable pharmaceutical behemoths would not be troubled with overly burdensome regulations under the new law.
So what’s the plan, guys? I sometimes wonder if the representatives of the party of Abraham Lincoln and Dwight Eisenhower have even read the Affordable Health Care Act? They unanimously oppose the individual mandate that requires everyone to buy health insurance, yet this was originally a Republican idea proposed back in 1993 as an alternative to Hilary Clinton’s dreaded universal system. To top it all a Republican governor, Mitt Romney, put this Republican theory into practice in Massachusetts and it’s working quite well, thank you.
Furthermore, since the vast majority of the country already has employer-provided health care insurance Obamacare, for the most part, doesn’t even affect them. It does, however, bring relief to those with a previously diagnosed condition, and those under 26 – unemployed or self-employed - who can now remain covered under their parents’ policies.
Those without health insurance who tend to frequent emergency rooms - thus straining the finances of the nation’s hospitals - will be mandated to purchase individual policies. But early reports from many states suggest that annual premiums will drop as much as 70% due to competition from the newly formed health insurance exchanges.
True in a number of states premiums will rise but that’s mostly because some bare-boned systems need to be improved to provide coverage in line with national standards.
Some current policyholders may even be due a rebate because of an Obamacare clause that caps the profits of health insurance companies. But the biggest beneficiary from the new law may be the country’s economy. Anytime up to 40 million people are integrated more fully into the economic system, the country’s finances get a shot in the arm – new jobs are created, costs can be better contained, and the nation’s greatest resource, its people, are kept healthier.
So how about it, Republican members of congress, any chance of you using your considerable talents and energies to make this law of the land work better, or do I hear the shuffle of shoe leather as you head back to DC ready to cast your 41st futile vote?
Tuesday, 13 August 2013
Dylan - The Greatest Artist of Our Time?
I went to see Bob Dylan recently. I hadn’t been at one of his concerts in a long time and was curious to see the changes time might have wrought.
We shared managers for a while so I have a little extra insight into the man, for all the good that does; the general feeling around “Bobby” is that just when you have him pegged he shifts the ground beneath your feet.
I should come clean and admit that along with Picasso, Yeats and Joyce I think Dylan is one of the most influential artists of the 20th Century. The fact that he’s still adding to an enormous body of great work over a decade later may put him a nose ahead.
Dylan has never been loath to have excellent bands play before him, and both Wilco and My Morning Jacket gave very good accounts of themselves; yet within moments of his taking the stage the gulf was obvious. Bobby has a voice – and I’m not just talking about his distinctive croon - the others are, well, just very good bands.
By Dylan’s second song I was ineffably moved, though I wasn’t sure why. He no longer plays guitar because of severe arthritis, yet he seemed solitary as ever as he swayed in front of a microphone stand, his band in a semi-circle focusing intently on him.
Age had run its jagged nails over him but it also seemed to have scraped away some of his trademark wise guy arrogance; it left in its place an empathy, even an odd humility, that has always been in short supply. Still, he was now very much the bandleader calling the shots and directing solos with a nod of the head from the piano that he often played skillfully despite his damaged fingers.
But his singular voice - searing, bluesy, soulful, revealing - took me places that I’d never been and back to many that he’d introduced me to. That’s the odd thing about Dylan: though it’s always great to hear his classics, the new songs can get you thinking about things that you’d forgotten about.
I used to wonder about his influences, the bible was always obvious as it is in the work of most great American songwriters. Only recently did I discover that when Bobby hit New York City in 1961, intimidated by Liam Clancy and others who drew deeply on the Celtic tradition, he spent months at the New York Public Library on 42nd Street trawling through newspapers from the 1860’s and swallowing whole the stories, language and characters of Civil War America.
That’s all still there and bestows a timeless quality to his songs. Like Stephen Foster before him, he’s the quintessential American writer; in fact over time he has come to personify the “weird and crazy America” that often seems on its last knees and then comes back and bites you.
His 100-minute set played like a highlights reel of my life – and from the rapt faces I don’t doubt that many others were experiencing the same effect. I remembered the first time I heard Like A Rolling Stone, how it caused me to leave Wexford and set out on my own creative journey. Just Like A Woman showed me what a know-it-all prig I once was, and maybe still am at times; while Positively 4th Street demonstrated how lyrics could be carved out of well-earned bitterness and put to good use.
He brought back flashes too of a night in a biker bar in Albuquerque when I danced with a waitress who seemed like she popped fully formed out of a Dylan song. And there was the afternoon when I heard his masterpiece, Time Out of Mind, and knew I’d have to up my own creative game or get trampled once more in his considerable dust.
It was so strange to watch this slight figure I’ve never met and realize the effect he’s had on me. So great to know that he’s still out there pursuing, and often nailing, his lonely vision of America. Then again, he’s Bob Dylan, dream spinner extraordinaire and perhaps the greatest artist of our time.
We shared managers for a while so I have a little extra insight into the man, for all the good that does; the general feeling around “Bobby” is that just when you have him pegged he shifts the ground beneath your feet.
I should come clean and admit that along with Picasso, Yeats and Joyce I think Dylan is one of the most influential artists of the 20th Century. The fact that he’s still adding to an enormous body of great work over a decade later may put him a nose ahead.
Dylan has never been loath to have excellent bands play before him, and both Wilco and My Morning Jacket gave very good accounts of themselves; yet within moments of his taking the stage the gulf was obvious. Bobby has a voice – and I’m not just talking about his distinctive croon - the others are, well, just very good bands.
By Dylan’s second song I was ineffably moved, though I wasn’t sure why. He no longer plays guitar because of severe arthritis, yet he seemed solitary as ever as he swayed in front of a microphone stand, his band in a semi-circle focusing intently on him.
Age had run its jagged nails over him but it also seemed to have scraped away some of his trademark wise guy arrogance; it left in its place an empathy, even an odd humility, that has always been in short supply. Still, he was now very much the bandleader calling the shots and directing solos with a nod of the head from the piano that he often played skillfully despite his damaged fingers.
But his singular voice - searing, bluesy, soulful, revealing - took me places that I’d never been and back to many that he’d introduced me to. That’s the odd thing about Dylan: though it’s always great to hear his classics, the new songs can get you thinking about things that you’d forgotten about.
I used to wonder about his influences, the bible was always obvious as it is in the work of most great American songwriters. Only recently did I discover that when Bobby hit New York City in 1961, intimidated by Liam Clancy and others who drew deeply on the Celtic tradition, he spent months at the New York Public Library on 42nd Street trawling through newspapers from the 1860’s and swallowing whole the stories, language and characters of Civil War America.
That’s all still there and bestows a timeless quality to his songs. Like Stephen Foster before him, he’s the quintessential American writer; in fact over time he has come to personify the “weird and crazy America” that often seems on its last knees and then comes back and bites you.
His 100-minute set played like a highlights reel of my life – and from the rapt faces I don’t doubt that many others were experiencing the same effect. I remembered the first time I heard Like A Rolling Stone, how it caused me to leave Wexford and set out on my own creative journey. Just Like A Woman showed me what a know-it-all prig I once was, and maybe still am at times; while Positively 4th Street demonstrated how lyrics could be carved out of well-earned bitterness and put to good use.
He brought back flashes too of a night in a biker bar in Albuquerque when I danced with a waitress who seemed like she popped fully formed out of a Dylan song. And there was the afternoon when I heard his masterpiece, Time Out of Mind, and knew I’d have to up my own creative game or get trampled once more in his considerable dust.
It was so strange to watch this slight figure I’ve never met and realize the effect he’s had on me. So great to know that he’s still out there pursuing, and often nailing, his lonely vision of America. Then again, he’s Bob Dylan, dream spinner extraordinaire and perhaps the greatest artist of our time.
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Stay Out Of Syria
Are we crazy? After the disasters in Iraq and Afghanistan to even entertain the idea of any form of intervention in Syria is an exercise in scaling moonbeams. Yet that’s what those doughty warriors, Senators McCain and Lindsey, are proposing. The toppling of democracy in Egypt only emphasizes the instability of this part of the world and how important it is to cease meddling in Middle Eastern affairs.
Of course part of this rush to conflict is to make President Obama pay for his ill-considered “red line” threat over the use of chemical weapons by the Syrian regime. As if the estimated 90,000 already slaughtered in this civil war weigh nothing in relation to the 150 or so poisoned with Sarin and other types of nerve gas.
It’s time to bite the political bullet, Senators; no matter how much it sticks in the craw, Barack Obama has won two presidential elections and because of his achievements in ending a couple of wars, stewarding the country through a financial meltdown, and extending affordable health care availability, his face will probably end up on some coin or bank note.
Still, not to worry, Hillary Clinton will be a lot easier to deal with in three years – and meanwhile both of you will have major moments in the sun if you can persuade your recalcitrant Republican House colleagues to pass a sensible immigration bill. In the meantime, later for military involvement in any more Muslim countries – this generation has enough wounded warriors, thank you.
You think Iraq was a quagmire? It’s got nothing on Syria. The Crusaders came barreling down this biblical highway on their way to Jerusalem and the natives, understandably, have had a thing about infidels meddling in their internal affairs ever since.
By all means send humanitarian aid and plenty of it, not only are up to 2 million people homeless and hungry, a great deal of the infrastructure of the country has been destroyed. But forget about introducing no-fly zones, taking out the Syrian Air Force or neutralizing Assad’s supply of chemical weapons.
It’s hard to imagine how this conflict can ever be resolved. A small sect of Alawites are hanging on to power for dear life because they know it’s curtains for them if the majority Sunnis ever take control.
The Alawites have always been mistrusted by their Sunni neighbors; if they were just simple Shiites who revere the prophet’s cousin, Ali, they might be acceptable, instead they have the nerve to celebrate Christian and Zoroastrian feast days, believe in reincarnation, and, most importantly, don’t like anyone telling them what to do.
As we know from bitter experience in the North of Ireland, sectarianism is a curse; it’s now playing out its poisoned hand in Syria where the Alawite 12% of the population, led by the Assad family, have been ruling the roost for almost half a century. Russia, with its naval bases, and Iran, with its support of Hezbollah, are major players on the Assad side, but in the end the numbers favor Syrian’s large Sunni population.
This is a battle we should run a mile from; it will play out of its own accord, partition will most likely be the bloody, and perhaps desired, result.
We have our own nation building to do. Instead of sending young men and women off on more impossible foreign adventures, give them employment at home rebuilding roads, bridges and cities. Oh, but I forgot, that would only add to the deficit, as if bombs, bullets, and American lives come cheaply.
The last thing Syria needs right now is a new crusade. The Sunni rebels, including hard-line Al Qaeda sympathizers, will get armaments from their co-religionists in the oil rich Gulf States; any help we give should be in the form of medical supplies and other humanitarian aid.
Senators McCain and Lindsey would be better off employing their considerable political skills in securing decent and sensible immigration legislation. It’s an issue close to Irish hearts and many of us will be very grateful to them for their efforts.
Of course part of this rush to conflict is to make President Obama pay for his ill-considered “red line” threat over the use of chemical weapons by the Syrian regime. As if the estimated 90,000 already slaughtered in this civil war weigh nothing in relation to the 150 or so poisoned with Sarin and other types of nerve gas.
It’s time to bite the political bullet, Senators; no matter how much it sticks in the craw, Barack Obama has won two presidential elections and because of his achievements in ending a couple of wars, stewarding the country through a financial meltdown, and extending affordable health care availability, his face will probably end up on some coin or bank note.
Still, not to worry, Hillary Clinton will be a lot easier to deal with in three years – and meanwhile both of you will have major moments in the sun if you can persuade your recalcitrant Republican House colleagues to pass a sensible immigration bill. In the meantime, later for military involvement in any more Muslim countries – this generation has enough wounded warriors, thank you.
You think Iraq was a quagmire? It’s got nothing on Syria. The Crusaders came barreling down this biblical highway on their way to Jerusalem and the natives, understandably, have had a thing about infidels meddling in their internal affairs ever since.
By all means send humanitarian aid and plenty of it, not only are up to 2 million people homeless and hungry, a great deal of the infrastructure of the country has been destroyed. But forget about introducing no-fly zones, taking out the Syrian Air Force or neutralizing Assad’s supply of chemical weapons.
It’s hard to imagine how this conflict can ever be resolved. A small sect of Alawites are hanging on to power for dear life because they know it’s curtains for them if the majority Sunnis ever take control.
The Alawites have always been mistrusted by their Sunni neighbors; if they were just simple Shiites who revere the prophet’s cousin, Ali, they might be acceptable, instead they have the nerve to celebrate Christian and Zoroastrian feast days, believe in reincarnation, and, most importantly, don’t like anyone telling them what to do.
As we know from bitter experience in the North of Ireland, sectarianism is a curse; it’s now playing out its poisoned hand in Syria where the Alawite 12% of the population, led by the Assad family, have been ruling the roost for almost half a century. Russia, with its naval bases, and Iran, with its support of Hezbollah, are major players on the Assad side, but in the end the numbers favor Syrian’s large Sunni population.
This is a battle we should run a mile from; it will play out of its own accord, partition will most likely be the bloody, and perhaps desired, result.
We have our own nation building to do. Instead of sending young men and women off on more impossible foreign adventures, give them employment at home rebuilding roads, bridges and cities. Oh, but I forgot, that would only add to the deficit, as if bombs, bullets, and American lives come cheaply.
The last thing Syria needs right now is a new crusade. The Sunni rebels, including hard-line Al Qaeda sympathizers, will get armaments from their co-religionists in the oil rich Gulf States; any help we give should be in the form of medical supplies and other humanitarian aid.
Senators McCain and Lindsey would be better off employing their considerable political skills in securing decent and sensible immigration legislation. It’s an issue close to Irish hearts and many of us will be very grateful to them for their efforts.
Tuesday, 16 July 2013
Where Have You Gone, Franklin Delano...
There’s a feeling of unease infecting the country.
One could attribute it to the recent recession but it’s deeper and cuts right across society. It’s the uncertainty of what’s coming next. What kind of world are we handing over to our children, and will they find a meaningful place in it?
Change follows every big economic upheaval; it’s the sheer suddenness that’s troublesome this time. Take the industrial revolution of the 19th century when people fled their agrarian societies and flocked to cities to spend the rest of their short lives toiling in factories. Drastic though it was, that change played out over decades, and in the end people formed unions, governments intervened on their behalf, and conditions became more acceptable.
Again during the great depression of the 1930’s the patrician president, Franklin Roosevelt, initiated game changing legislation that with time, and the outbreak of World War II, restored full employment to the country.
In the current malaise, however, no one appears to be thinking ahead; if anything we’re living in a fool’s paradise where politicians endlessly jaw on without offering any meaningful solutions to a myriad of social and economic problems.
At a time we should be spending to promote job creation, as Roosevelt did in the 1930’s, the mantra is “cut taxes and deficits,” when it’s now obvious that the 2009 stimulus programs – although heavily weighted in tax cuts - saved us from the long term recessions of many European countries.
But the most troubling aspect is the sense that we’re not all in this together, that those in the top financial echelon share little of the general uncertainty.
“I’m 48, I lost my job. I’ve always played by the rules, but now the system has no use for me.” I overheard a woman say recently.
She has a point, with the weakening of unions she is on her own. A person half her age will be willing to work for a lot less just to get a foot in the door.
Employment may be finally picking up but good jobs are scarce and reserved for those with the requisite skills. Meanwhile many colleges are a joke, even less prepared for the huge societal change than the rest of us. They charge through the nose for degrees that have little relevance, leaving students with debt they’ll likely never repay, especially with Congress unwilling to put a cap on student-loan interest rates.
I’m by no means decrying a Liberal Arts degree, far from it, but to send any graduate into the current specialized workforce without a sound knowledge of Excel and other computer programs is madness. But not to worry debt-ridden graduates can always pick up those skills with an unpaid internship.
The housing market is finally beginning to boom again but it’s a hard nut to crack for those without substantial means. Not only are large institutions buying up property but as many as a third of all purchases are now being made with full cash down. Meanwhile credit is still tight and mortgages difficult to come by for the less affluent.
Is there no hope? Of course there is, but it will only come from the ballot box. Look how pragmatic Republicans have done an about face on immigration after the last presidential election. Their reasoning may have been self-preservation but who cares - the country will receive an economic lift by the introduction of millions of hard working and enterprising people into the system.
Still, real change won’t come without anger – anger at a system that is no longer working for the great majority, anger at a political class that must go hat in hand to corporate chieftains and their moneyed ilk for the funds to run for office, and anger at ourselves for allowing the system to be appropriated.
Of course we can take our anti-depressants and sit around waiting for a new Franklin Roosevelt to make everything okay again. But without a general desire for change I’m not sure even the patrician from Hyde Park could cut through the current national malaise.
One could attribute it to the recent recession but it’s deeper and cuts right across society. It’s the uncertainty of what’s coming next. What kind of world are we handing over to our children, and will they find a meaningful place in it?
Change follows every big economic upheaval; it’s the sheer suddenness that’s troublesome this time. Take the industrial revolution of the 19th century when people fled their agrarian societies and flocked to cities to spend the rest of their short lives toiling in factories. Drastic though it was, that change played out over decades, and in the end people formed unions, governments intervened on their behalf, and conditions became more acceptable.
Again during the great depression of the 1930’s the patrician president, Franklin Roosevelt, initiated game changing legislation that with time, and the outbreak of World War II, restored full employment to the country.
In the current malaise, however, no one appears to be thinking ahead; if anything we’re living in a fool’s paradise where politicians endlessly jaw on without offering any meaningful solutions to a myriad of social and economic problems.
At a time we should be spending to promote job creation, as Roosevelt did in the 1930’s, the mantra is “cut taxes and deficits,” when it’s now obvious that the 2009 stimulus programs – although heavily weighted in tax cuts - saved us from the long term recessions of many European countries.
But the most troubling aspect is the sense that we’re not all in this together, that those in the top financial echelon share little of the general uncertainty.
“I’m 48, I lost my job. I’ve always played by the rules, but now the system has no use for me.” I overheard a woman say recently.
She has a point, with the weakening of unions she is on her own. A person half her age will be willing to work for a lot less just to get a foot in the door.
Employment may be finally picking up but good jobs are scarce and reserved for those with the requisite skills. Meanwhile many colleges are a joke, even less prepared for the huge societal change than the rest of us. They charge through the nose for degrees that have little relevance, leaving students with debt they’ll likely never repay, especially with Congress unwilling to put a cap on student-loan interest rates.
I’m by no means decrying a Liberal Arts degree, far from it, but to send any graduate into the current specialized workforce without a sound knowledge of Excel and other computer programs is madness. But not to worry debt-ridden graduates can always pick up those skills with an unpaid internship.
The housing market is finally beginning to boom again but it’s a hard nut to crack for those without substantial means. Not only are large institutions buying up property but as many as a third of all purchases are now being made with full cash down. Meanwhile credit is still tight and mortgages difficult to come by for the less affluent.
Is there no hope? Of course there is, but it will only come from the ballot box. Look how pragmatic Republicans have done an about face on immigration after the last presidential election. Their reasoning may have been self-preservation but who cares - the country will receive an economic lift by the introduction of millions of hard working and enterprising people into the system.
Still, real change won’t come without anger – anger at a system that is no longer working for the great majority, anger at a political class that must go hat in hand to corporate chieftains and their moneyed ilk for the funds to run for office, and anger at ourselves for allowing the system to be appropriated.
Of course we can take our anti-depressants and sit around waiting for a new Franklin Roosevelt to make everything okay again. But without a general desire for change I’m not sure even the patrician from Hyde Park could cut through the current national malaise.
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