Songs I wish I wrote: "River on Fire" by Adam Again

Anyone who knows their Vlad-tunes (TM) will be familiar with the Ohio Trilogy: "Red Toledo", "Kill Me in Cleveland" and "I Don't Know which way it is to Youngstown" (bonus points to anyone who can name other Ohio references, and maybe even a "part 4" of the trilogy).

The Cuyahoga River in Cleveland caught fire in June of 1969, just four months before I was born. They used to say that the river oozed rather than flowed. The event raised awareness of environmental issues and helped get the Clean Water Act passed. I did do a song about pollution called "Fishy Fishy" featuring my brother Art who was around 4 at the time.

Randy Newman "Burn On" was about the incident, but my favorite on the topic is a 1992 song by Adam Again called "River On Fire". It uses the event as a metaphor for a relationship. I love how the haunting cello adds to the melancholy of the song.



What would you say if you knew what I was thinking?
Maybe you do, but you know not to dig too deep
What if I knew what you needed for sure?
I've seen in your eyes you need more, much more

And I could be happy, and you could be miserable
I'll grab a metaphor out of the air
The Cuyahoga River on fire

What can you say? The impossible happens
What can you settle for?
What can you live without?
I remember the night I first darkened your door
And I swore that I loved you
My heart was pure

You could be happy, and I could be miserable

My open window, a dream in the dark
My fingers, your face
A spark, a trace

I know a lot about the history of Cleveland, Ohio
Disasters that have happened there
Like the Cuyahoga River on fire

Songs I wish I wrote: "Outside of a Small Circle of Friends" by Phil Ochs

So many songs by Phil Ochs inspired the social commentary and political songs of Vladimir's Universe. Out of them all, this one is the one I wish I had written. The case of Kitty Genovese, who was stabbed to death outside her home while dozens of her neighbors reportedly ignored her cries for help inspired the song. It was the closest thing he ever had to a hit, getting a good bit of airplay and reaching #119 on Billboard's national "Hot Prospect" chart. Censors promptly took the song off the air.

Phil captures the apathy found in America in 1967--and who could imagine that it would become even worse forty years later. We're busy on our mobile phones, or texting, or plugged into our iPods shut off from the world around us. Being in public is an inconvenience--it's noisy, it smells, and one might be forced to interact with other people. Better to stay at home, shop online, and order a pizza.

Try unplugging for one day. Take a "Social Media Sabbath" with no cell phone, texting, email, Facebook, or TV. Go outside where there is nature and people. Talk to strangers. Visit someone in the hospital or a nursing home. Do volunteer work. Interact with the world around you.




Look outside the window, there's a woman being grabbed
They've dragged her to the bushes and now she's being stabbed
Maybe we should call the cops and try to stop the pain
But Monopoly is so much fun, I'd hate to blow the game
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends.

Riding down the highway, yes, my back is getting stiff
Thirteen cars are piled up, they're hanging on a cliff.
Maybe we should pull them back with our towing chain
But we gotta move and we might get sued and it looks like it's gonna rain
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends.

Sweating in the ghetto with the colored and the poor
The rats have joined the babies who are sleeping on the floor
Now wouldn't it be a riot if they really blew their tops?
But they got too much already and besides we got the cops
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends.

Oh there's a dirty paper using sex to make a sale
The Supreme Court was so upset, they sent him off to jail.
Maybe we should help the fiend and take away his fine.
But we're busy reading Playboy and the Sunday New York Times
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends

Smoking marihuana is more fun than drinking beer,
But a friend of ours was captured and they gave him thirty years
Maybe we should raise our voices, ask somebody why
But demonstrations are a drag, besides we're much too high
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends

Oh look outside the window, there's a woman being grabbed
They've dragged her to the bushes and now she's being stabbed
Maybe we should call the cops and try to stop the pain
But Monopoly is so much fun, I'd hate to blow the game
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends

Songs I wish I wrote: "Ba Ba Ba" by the 77s

In 1984 I was "new wave", but a big Jesus Freak at the same time. There were a few bands like the 77s who were making quality music for kids like me. I bought their album "All Fall Down" and just about everything on the Exit Records label: Vector, Charlie Peacock, and Steve Scott among them. They did a cover of "Jesus" by the Velvet underground during these sessions that didn't make it on the album, but did appear on re-releases and box sets.

I will credit this song for my love of the word "lemonade", which appears in several Vlad-tunes (TM). The video is a bit cheesy, and I'm sure lead singer Mike Roe was reluctant to do the Robert Smith big hair thing since he never appeared on stage like that. But hey, it was the 80s and they were trying to get on MTV.



Welcome to the truth custom made
Come in and have some lemonade
Reality will readjust while we evade
The issues that are pressing us
And getting so depressing but
Undressing and unstressing
Makes them go away

We're tired of solid ground
We're wired up for sound
From any fool who'll keep us
Cool with all his lies
Cool with all his lies

Ba-ba-ba-ba
Ba-ba-ba-ba
We believe, we believe
Cuz we felt it burning in our hearts
Ba-ba-ba-ba
Ba-ba-ba-ba
And it's true, yes it's true
If it gets us all thru the night
For the rest of our lives

If there's a master race, we're one
And if by chance they drop the bomb
The heat will never find us
Cuz we've learned to run
No absolutes to spoil our time
So we won't have to change our minds
Just hope that we won't die
While we're still in our prime

Spoken: “Wie Schafe zur Schlachtbank geführt”
(Like sheep led to the slaughter)

Songs I wish I wrote: "Don't Go Home with Your Hard-On" by Leonard Cohen

There are so many Leonard Cohen songs that I love. I've performed "Last Year's Man" and recorded my own arrangement of his poem "Flowers for Hitler". This song, however, is brilliantly written and super catchy. The title on my copy of the LP said "Don't Go Home with Your Heart On", which I liked better. You can hear Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg singing back-up vocals.

It appeared on his 1977 album "Death of a Ladies' Man", produced by Phil Spector. During these sessions, Cohen recalls, "One day he had a bottle of wine in one hand and a 35mm pistol in the other. He put his arm around my shoulder, pressed the muzzle into my neck and said, 'Leonard, I love you.' At which point I said: 'I hope you really do, Phil.’" The album was hated by fans, derided by critics, and Cohen himself called it a catastrophe. Fewer songs from this album have been covered than any others.

I was born in a beauty salon
My father was a dresser of hair
My mother was a girl you could call on
When you called she was always there

Ah but don't go home with your hard-on
It will only drive you insane
You can't shake it (or break it) with your Motown
You can't melt it down in the rain

I've looked behind all of the faces
That smile you down to your knees
And the lips that say, Come on, taste us
And when you try to they make you say Please

Ah but don't go home with your hard-on ...

Here come's your bride with her veil on
Approach her, you wretch, if you dare
Approach her, you ape with your tail on
Once you have her she'll always be there

Ah but don't go home with your hard-on ...

So I work in that same beauty salon
I'm chained to the old masquerade
The lipstick, the shadow, the silicone
I follow my father's trade

Ah but don't go home with your hard-on
It will only drive you insane
You can't shake it (or break it) with your Motown
You can't melt it down in the rain

Songs I wish I wrote: "Careless" by Paul Kelly

I think the first time I heard this was when Ron Wells sing it. I can't remember if it was him solo at Cross Street Station or with The Rubbles in Oakland, CA--but I can hear his voice singing it. Ron did many songs by his Australian countryman which have become favorites of mine. This one was from Kelly's 1989 album "So Much Water So Close to Home".

Sometimes I like a song because it resonates with life events. Such is the case with "Careless". In 1992 I realized that I was selfish and had hurt many people in my short life. Vladimir had become someone I didn't really like. For the previous six years my mom kept praying that I would be safe and disease free by the time I finished running around. Fortunately, God listened.

A key to good songwriting is to have killer opening lines, and this song certainly has it. I also like that it's a circle song, with a progression of chords that cycle in the same order--the melody changes for the chorus but the chords stay the same. That's the way I like to compose songs.



How many cabs in New York City,
how many angels on a pin?
How many notes in a saxophone,
how many tears in a bottle of gin?
How many times did you call my name,
knock at the door but you couldn't get in?
I know I've been careless

I've been wrapped up in a shell
nothing could get through to me
Acted like I didn't know I had friends or family
I saw worry in their eyes,
it didn't look like fear to me
I know I've been careless (I took bad care of this)

Like a mixture in a bottle,
like a frozen-over lake
Like a longtime painted smile
I got so hard I had to crack
You were there, you held the line,
you're the one that brought me back

I know I've been careless (I lost my tenderness)
I've been careless (I took bad care of this)
How many cabs in New York City,
how many angels on a pin?
How many notes in a saxophone,
how many tears in a bottle of gin?
How many times did you call my name,
knock at the door but you couldn't get in?
How many stars in the milky way,
how many way can you lose a friend?


 

Songs I wish I wrote: "I'll Come Running" by Brian Eno

Song lyrics can be poetry with deep meaning, but I don't think this is required. It can be the way the sounds work together--a sequence of words rather than a sentence. Lyrics can be a component of the song just like the rhythm or the instrumentation. Phrases can also be allusions to things that have meaning to the artists, an inside joke with friends, or a pop culture reference. Like an expressionist painting, the audience must figure it out for themselves--everyone finds a different meaning.

Any of Eno's songs could be used as an example of this, but this one from "Another Green World" (1975) is one I wish I wrote. I like to play it on the guitar and sing it to my kids.

I'll find a place somewhere in the corner 

I'm gonna waste the rest of my days 

Just watching patiently from the window 

Just waiting, seasons change, some day, oh oh, 

My dreams will pull you through that garden gate

I want to be the wandering sailor 

We're silhouettes by the light of the moon 

I sit playing solitaire by the window 

Just waiting, seasons change, ah hah, you'll see 

Some day these dreams will pull you through my door

And I'll come running to tie your shoe 

I'll come running to tie your shoe 

I'll come running to tie your shoe 

I'll come running to tie your shoe

Oh, oh oh-oh-oho-oho-oho-oho-oho-o-o-o

Oh, oh oh-oh-oho-oho-oho-oho-oho-o-o-o

I'll come running to tie your shoe I'll come running to tie your shoe I'll come running to tie your shoe I'll come running to tie your shoe