Cluster's Last Stand

General George Armstrong Cluster Bomb (courtesy Dall-E 2)

Hello. A few days ago, President Biden said he would authorize sending cluster-bomb munitions to Ukraine. These are bombs that are designed to destroy broad swaths of targets by scattering exploding “bomblets” over a wide areas; because there is a higher failure rate than with more conventional bombs, duds can pose danger to civilians both during conflict and for years afterward. These weapons are on their way out: More than 120 nations ban them (including Britain, France and Germany), under the terms of the United Nations Convention on Cluster Munitions. (Neither Russia nor the U.S. bans them, and both Russia and Ukraine have been using them in their war. Still, they’re growing obsolete and we apparently don’t really wanna use ours, ourselves.) Oddly, Biden’s policy to give them to Ukraine has been embraced by many Republicans … and condemned by many Democrats.

So, today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:

Is Biden wrong to do this? Choose the better answer.

Answer A: No, he is not wrong. Ukraine is engaged in a fight for its survival against an amoral aggressor. War is not clean; this is necessary, both for Ukraine but possibly also for the survival of other democracies around the world.

Answer B: Yes, he is wrong. The United states should project global moral leadership. If we abandon that, we lose something central to who we are and what influence we can have.

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Many of today’s questions / observations that follow are in response to my call on Saturday for musical lyrics that blow you away. There was a hemorrhage of responses. Many were excellent. Some were ludicrous. (Not Ludacris — rap was underrepresented, which was a shame because there’s some fine wordplay and observational razor sharpness out there. "If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?"by Kendrick Lamar, for example, and this by Rakim: "I start to think, and then I sink/Into the paper like I was ink/When I'm writing, I'm trapped in between the lines/I escape when I finish the rhyme,” and this by Tupac: "And even as a crack fiend, mama/You always was a black queen, mama."

My favorite lyrics tend to employ elements of poetry — conclusions strategically withheld, for you to find yourselves; clever wordplay, whether funny, ironic, or profound; inventive meter and rhyme structure, and thus such. Many of your nominees were more straightforward, less elliptical, but emotionally moving. They speak to you in deep ways. I grudgingly admit these are equally valid criteria. (I used to think myself sort of immune to the second type — I think of myself, sometimes, as an emotionally bankrupt machine, impervious to empathy and personal connection, but then I remembered that my favorite Dylan song is “Ballad of a Thin Man,” which I see indelibly as examining the profound inner anxieties of myself and most every journalist I’ve ever known.)

But mostly I love lines like the final one in Billy Joel’s Piano Man — a great song that is not without a writerly mishap or two. But Billy nails it at the end. In the song, he has been playing to a room of lonely drunks, people stuck in dead-end jobs, loveless lives, numbing themselves to their pathetic troubles. At the end — the very last line — a patron hears the piano sing and says, “Man, what are you doing here?” They guy is showing respect, and a lack of self-respect, acknowledging he is wasting his life in a dive.

But we understand something else, something only Billy can know. We know it, though, when we realize he has chosen it as his kicker line. It’s irony: Billy belongs there, too. That’s why he’s there.

Also, consider John Prine’s writing in “Sam Stone,” the anti-Viet song with the devastating refrain, “There’s a hole in Daddy’s arm where all the money goes….” But John is embarking on his poetry from the get-go, lines one and two: “Sam Stone came home to his wife and family / After serving in the conflict overseas...” He juxtaposes the intensely personal and painful with the soulless, dishonest government jargon of war.

Anyway, the rest of this Gene Pool belongs to you. I’ll have some comments and additions, but mostly, this is you. The fact is, my views on music may be worthless: I have lavishly proven that when the subject is lyrics, I might have absolutely no idea what I am talking about, as you can see in this interview I once did with the very funny and very blunt John Prine.

We will delve into lyrics soon, but first it is vital that you see the following photograph, retrieved from the Web. There are clever and inventive people out there:

It is also vital, before we get to music, that I warn you away from playing “Jeopardy!” online, as an Alexa App. It’s got the world’s worst voice recognition software. This is how seemingly a quarter of the questions and answers go:

Jeopardy host: “He was president immediately before Lincoln.”

Me: “Who is James Buchanan?”

Jeopardy host: “Remember, please respond in the form of a question, starting with ‘who is’ or ‘what is?”

Me: “Who is James Buchanan?”

Jeopardy host: “Sorry, the correct response was ‘who is James Buchanan… ? ”

When you are done with a game, they tell you how much “money” you won, based on the value of each question you answered correctly. They do not qualify or theoreticize this amount in any way. My day’s haul is usually about $1,000 or so. I’ve been playing almost daily for months. I think I’m gonna submit an invoice. They are so screwed up, they might pay it.

And now, next-to-lastly before the music: Like a billion people I have gotten fed up with the Elon Musk Twitter — most recently because after a cookies-delete mishap, Twitter no longer recognizes who I am and declines to allow me to re-set my password because I do not have an app they wish me to have. I may just … leave.

My first thought is that if Threads truly wanted to replace Twitter in all its character it should have called itself “Threats.” My second thought is that making you subscribe to Instagram in order to join Threads is like making you subscribe to Highlights for Children before you can get The Economist.

Still, I might do it. So: If you are on Threads, how has your experience been? Report here, please, at this pleasant Orange Button:

So here come your questions / observations / nominations, and my answers, analysis, and occasional savagery — just as soon as I abase myself by begging. The Gene Pool is successful. We have many thousands of people around the country and globe who read us weekly for free, and many hundreds who pay us a little money. ($4.15 a month.) Will you take the graceful, gracious leap from the first group to the second? We’d be much obliged, and it will help keep us alive. Here:

Now, Lyrics!

Q: One of the two themes of this year's Smithsonian Folklife Festival, goin on right now on the National Mall is the Ozarks, and especially music of the Ozarks. Heard a great original song played tonight by one of the bands, with this lyric: "Gonna build me a bar, in the backseat of my car, and drive myself to drinking'." 

A: Fine lyric. The song is “Back of My Car.” It apparently was written in 1974, and first performed, by a country group called Eggs Over Easy in 1976. Songwriters: Austin DeLone and Brien Hopkins. It was covered by The Moonlighters and The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. DeLone was later a studio musician for Elvis Costello and Bonnie Raitt.

Q: One song from 1927 that gives me chills is Old Man River, especially the lines: “I gets weary and sick of tryin’, I’m tired of livin’ and scared of dyin.” That one-two punch just about knocks me flat. Uh, it’s Oscar Hammerstein.

A: Yep. Um, Paul Robeson helps.

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Q: My nomination for lyrics is “Late for the Dance” by Susan Werner from her CD, “I Can’t Be New”. What I especially like about this lyric is the two lines where the rhyme prompts us to hear words that are not actually sung, that leave us hanging. I’ve placed those phantom words in square brackets. Jim Schaefer = = = 

I arrived last night at half-past two
in my best dress and my best shoe.
 I rushed upstairs to look for you. 
But I was late for the dance. 

And there was nothing left but faint perfume
and floating smoke in an empty room
and a janitor leaning on his broom.
I was late for the dance. 

I'd been taking my sweet time, 
Yes, I'd been hesitating.
But I finally made up my mind
And you weren't there [waiting], 

No, you weren't there [waiting]
Just tin foil ashtrays and cigarette butts
and lipstick-printed plastic cups. 
The barkeep said, We're all closed up.
 I was late for the dance.

And I asked the doorman if he'd seen you.
He said, What a pity.
He said you waited on the stairs,
Then left with someone [pretty], 
Left with someone [pretty]. 

I looked up at the stars and cussed.
I thought what might have been for us.
But the band was leaving on the bus. 
I was late. I was late for the dance.

A: This is gorgeous, and poetic. And metaphorical.

TIMELY TIP: If you're reading this right now on an email:   Click here to get to my webpage, then click on the top headline (In this case, “Cluster’s Last Stand“) for my full column, and comments, and real-time questions and answers. And you can refresh and see new questions and answers that appear as I regularly update the post from about noon to one ET today.

Q: Not dazzling wordplay, but in his sometimes annoying, cloying, too-clever-for-his-own-boots way, Paul McCartney came up with words that I try to live by (despite my non-demonstrative Swedish ancestry): For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.

A: I don’t love Paul’s lyrics, either.  But I have always liked this one.  It’s interesting how it is even possible: Someone who can write great lyrics but also bad lyrics.  See next post. 

Q: "I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul" from Dylan's Don't Think Twice. Got dumped by my fiance in 1983 who kept telling me I didn't understand her. I really didn't understand until I heard these lyrics again a couple of years later and started a deep dive thinking about the meaning.

A: I get why this is meaningful to you, but the sentiment is childish. And this is Dylan, the greatest of all. 

Q: Don't be offended by my frank analysis / Think of it as personality dialysis (from song "Popular" in the musical "Wicked")

A: A bit show-offy, but excellent.

Q: “The percent that you’re paying is too high-priced while you’re living beyond all your means. But the man in the suit has just bought a new car from the profit he made from your dreams.”

A:  Good.  A shocking percentage of you didn’t bother to mention the song or the writers/performers.  This is Low Spark of High Heeled Boys, by Traffic.  Writers, Winwood-Capaldi. 

Q: Oh if life were made of moments, even now and then a bad one... but if life were only moments, then you'd never know you had one. – Sondheim

A: Good, but about the 400th best line of Sondheim’s.  Another reader suggested about 900 words from “Assassins.”  Also good, but gimme a break. You want great Sondheim? How about this colloquy , from Sweeney Todd, discussing the subject of consuming human flesh: 

Mrs. LOVETT: 

It's priest. Have a little priest.

Mr TODD:

Is it really good?

LOVETT:

Sir, it's too good, at least!

Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh,

So it's pretty fresh.

TODD:

Awful lot of fat.

LOVETT:

Only where it sat.

TODD:

Haven't you got poet, or something like that?

LOVETT:

No, y'see, the trouble with poet is

'Ow do you know it's deceased?

Try the priest!

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Q: “We’ll, I sat there at the table and I acted real naive / ‘Fer I knew that topless lady had something up her sleeve” – From Spanish Pipedream by John Prine.  Then everything else by John Prine

A: He was among the all-time best, lyrically.   “… That's the way that the world goes 'round / You're up one day, the next you're down / It's half an inch of water and you think you're gonna drown / That’s the way that the world goes round. …” 

Q: “I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why” — Simon & Garfunkel, “America.” Found scribbled in the margin of my sister’s notebook as I cleared out her dorm room, the week after she died by suicide. 38 years ago. — Mike M in Charlottesville

A: Sorry, Mike. This becomes even more profound in the song’s context:  He’s singing it to a sleeping woman.  And yes, when a song sings to even one person this profoundly, it is perforce a very good song. 

Q: Joni Mitchell’s: “We are stardust. We are carbon.” For years and years I assumed this with a Hoagy Carmichael version of Stardust. Little did I know that she was into elements of astro-physics back in the 60s. Ahead of her time!

A: Indeed.

Q: Of all the possible dimensions for ranking the quality of songs (melody, lyrics, vocals, virtuosity with instruments, emotional impact, rhythmic complexity, danceability, etc.), which are most/least important to you, and on which do your personal preferences differ the most from other people’s preferences?

A: The only thing that has zero impact on me is “danceability.”  In a way, it has negative impact.  At a concert, I resent people who dance; they are, to me, like the jerks who stand up in front of you at football games. .  On the other end of the spectrum, I am a sucker for great lyrics, inventive rhyme, etc.  I am a word guy. Emotional impact, too.  I write feature stories.

Q: I first heard this masterful rhyme almost 50 years ago. "It's a lot like playing the violin, you cannot start off and be Yehudi Menuhin" from Sparks, "Amateur Hour" (referring to making love). - Jim G

A: A wincing rhyme, but that’s part of the charm. 

Q: “Now when I talk to God I know he understands / He said "stick by me and I'll be your guiding hand" / But don't ask me what I think of you / I might not give the answer that you want me to.”

A: From Oh Well, by Fleetwood Mac.  

Q: Re, the poll: If A is right why don’t we just let Ukraine massively firebomb Russian forces as we did the Japanese cities we didn’t, you know, nuke, as well as the German cities such as Dresden, most famously captured by Vonnegut in Slaughterhouse-Five. Land mines, depleted uranium bombs, tactical nukes, the skies the limit. Wouldn’t it be great to mount cameras on all them bombs and just rebroadcast in near-real time? (Rebroadcasting would allow time to not show the ones that don’t explode or at least don’t kill anyone. Don’t want to let down the people of this poll with nothing at stake.)

A: I understand your argument, and your anger, but might you be oversimplifying a bit?

Q: A tiny stanza  from "This is the Day" by The The:

 “Well, you didn't wake up this morning Cuz you didn't go to bed You were watchin' the whites of your eyes turn red.”

A: AND they have the best band name in the world.

Q: Rush / Dreamline, “We are young Wandering the face of the earth Wondering what our dreams might be worth Learning that we're only immortal For a limited time.”

A: I love the end.

Q: From “Parting Gift” by Fiona Apple: “I opened my eyes while you were kissing me once More than once And you looked as sincere as a dog. Just as sincere as a dog does When it’s the food on your lips with which it’s in love.

A: Whoa.

Q: “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose” – Me and Bobby McGee, by Kris Kristofferson.

A: Indeed.  Kristofferson wrote that in 1969.  However, Dylan wrote this more concisely in 1965, in “Like a Rolling Stone” – “When you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose,

You're invisible now, you've got no secrets to conceal.  How does it feel…”

Kristofferson reversed the point: Making it about freedom, not invisibility, though those two conditions are entwined.     Bobbie McGee is a very fine song and Janis made it terrific, but a question can be fairly raised. . . 

Q: One of my favorite songs is “Aidia” by Sarah McLachlan which contains the following lyric: And there ain't no one to buy our innocence 'Cause we are born innocent Believe me, Adia, we are still innocent It's easy, we all falter Does it matter? I like it mainly because it is antithetical to the odious theological concepts of original sin and total depravity that I was taught growing up in church.

A: I respect your reason, and honor your experience.  But to me this is a relatively ordinary and obvious lyric.  To me, you exemplify the dichotomy between “speaks to me” and “is poetry.” A fair comparison, neither wrong. 

Q: Resent having to go through Instagram (Highlights!), but so far Threads is a lot like Twitter, but without Musk. I’ll stay.

A: Thanks. You know Musk’s purchase of Twitter — which he tried to rescind, unsuccessfully at the last minute — may well wind up being universally considered the biggest blunder in business history.

A: Richard from Alexandria: "Since you're gone, everything's in perfect tense." The Cars, Since You're Gone. I have always found that stanza to be particularly clever. Other than the members of this Substack group and English teachers, how many people even know what perfect tense is?

A: I am sure everyone here gets it and does not need to google. 

Q: “You know I'ma hit 'em with the ether / Buns out, wiener/ But I gotta keep an eye out for Selener “Beauty and the Beat” - Nicki Minaj, in a shout-out to Justin Bieber

A: Funny 

Q: We are being told (and loudly by Josh Hawley, that paragon of manliness) that American males have a masculinity problem. Not sure what that is, or what cheaper power tools couldn't cure, but I thought I would ask the DMV Oracle. That would be you.

A: Not answering because you called it the DMV.  Like most real men I have strong opinions and prosecute them in a manly fashion. 

Q: I saw my Lady weepe
and Sorrow proud to bee advanced so:
in those faire eies, where all perfecions keepe,
hir face was full of woe,
but such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts,
than Mirth can doe, with hir intysing parts.
Sorrow was there made faire,
And Passion wise, teares a delightfull thing,
Silence beyond all speech a wisdome rare
Shee made hir sighes to sing,
And all things with so sweet a sadnesse move,
As made my heart at once both grieve and love.
O fayrer then ought ells, The world can shew, leave off in time to grieve,

 Inough, inough, your joyfull lookes excells,

Teares kill the heart believe

O strive not to bee excellent in woe,

 Which onely breeds your beauty's overthrow. 

(John Dowland, Second Book of Songs, 1600)

A: Charming and deep, and a little reminiscent of Shakespeare’s brilliant Sonnet 130

Q: "Changing My Major," from the musical Fun Home (based on Alison Bechdel's graphic memoir), is the song that college-age Alison sings about her first sexual experience, which happens to be a same-sex one. The line that stays with me is "I don't know who I am / I've become someone new / Nothing I just did is anything I would do." Everyone who hears it instantly recalls the earth-shifting personal events in their life, virginity-related or otherwise. And now that I have a kid, I wonder what his will be one day: likely ones that are universally experienced, and likely ones whose details I will never know.

A: And I love the play. 

 Q: A ridiculous line that once heard, stubbornly refuses to be forgotten, from "Old College Days," by Tom Lehrer: Soon, you'll be sliding down the razor blade of life. - Paul Frantz, San Francisco

A: This is the only mention of Tom Lehrer I will permit here, because all of his lines are memorably great.  

Q: When a certain song by The Doors played over the radio, my mom would loudly sing her own, upgraded lyrics: "I'm gonna love you/'til the heavens stop the rain/I'm gonna love you/'til the stars fall to the sea/for you and me."

A: Hail to your ma.   I suggested the same new rhyme years ago.  It was so EASY.  (For those unfamiliar, they sang: “Till the stars fall from the sky / for you and I.”

This is Gene: And now a collection of nominees that were ludicrously misidentified as good.  I will resist comment where I can. I am so glad The Gene Pool is anonymous, so I can be savage. 

?Generals gathered in their masses Just like witches at black masses “War Pigs” - Black Sabbath”

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“Baby get my order right, no errors / Imma touch you in all the right areas “Carry Out” - Timbaland ft. Justin Timberlake”

Q: I have always regarded the line “I can’t complain but sometimes I still do” from Joe Walsh’s “Life’s Been Good” as capturing so much about who we are (or at least who I am).

A: Tepid.  Vapid.  

Q: The first time ever I saw your face I thought the sun rose in your eyes And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave To the dark and the endless skies, my love To the dark and the endless skies --- "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" by Ewan Maccoll. Sung by Roberta Flack.

A: Great song, great performance.  Saccharine lyrics.  

Q: “The falling leaves drift by the window. The autumn leaves of red and gold I see your lips, the summer kisses The sunburned hands I used to hold. Since you went away the days grow long And soon I'll hear old winter's song But I miss you most of all my darling When autumn leaves start to fall. ---"Autumn Leaves," by Jacques Prévert / Johnny Mercer / Joseph Kosma. Sung by Eva Cassidy.

A: Same.  Saccharine, trite.  Though Eva Cassidy could make anything sound great. 

Q: If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me / Time after time / If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting / Time after time If you fall,/ I will catch you, I'll be waiting/  Time after time Time after time --- "Time After Time," by Andrew Robert Hyman. Sung by Eva Cassidy

A: Sigh.  I have found that people are unduly impressed by repetition.  And unduly impressed by performance. 

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One more great one:

Q: “It’s true that all the men you knew were dealers who said they were through with dealing every time you gave them shelter. I know that kind of man, it’s hard to hold the hand of anyone who is reaching for the sky just to surrender… And then leaning on your window sill he’ll say one day you caused his will to weaken with your love and warmth and shelter. And then taking from his wallet an old schedule of trains, he’ll say I told you when I came I was a stranger. ” – Leonard Cohen, The Stranger Song. 

A: This is Gene.  I admit I put this question in, myself, then answered it, myself.  We’re done now.

Please keep sending in questions; I will answer them in the next chat(s). Send them, as always, here:

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