I went and bought Augustana’s new album, Can’t Love, Can’t Hurt, today. I absolutely loved the first single of the album, Sweet and Low.
The first version of this song was called “Heart Shaped Gun.” Lyrics are here, a video is here.
Augustana changed the lyrics. The melody is still the same. The result:
sky black and blue,
blue turned to red,
it’s quiet in the streets now,
it’s screaming in your head, Continue reading
I could look at Patrick Wolf all day.
I could listen to Patrick Wolf all day.
So the best of both worlds: music videos. Continue reading
Sweet and Low
The new (fantastic) single from Augustana, from their soon-to-be-released (that’d be a month) new album, Can’t Love, Can’t Hurt.
anywhere you go, anyone you meet,
remember that your eyes can be your enemies,
i said hell is so close, and heaven’s out of reach,
but i ain’t giving up quite yet,
i’ve got too much to lose,
hold me down, sweet and low, little girl
hold me down, sweet and low and i will carry you home,
hold me down, sweet and low, little girl,
hold me down, and i’ll carry you home,
Together in Electric Dreams
I only knew you for a while
I never saw your smile
til it was time to go
Time to go away (time to go away)
Sometimes it’s hard to recognize
Love comes as a surprise
And it’s too late
It’s just too late to stay
Too late to stay
Existentialism on Prom Night
When the sun came up,
We were sleeping in,
Sunk inside our blankets,
Sprawled across the bed,
And we were dreaming,
There are moments when,
When I know it and
The world revolves around us,
And we’re keeping it,
Keep it all going,
This delicate balance,
Vulnerable all knowing,
Self Portrait. 2007. Approx 2.5’x2.5′, oil on Masonite.
Norman Mailer died. I have The Executioner’s Song checked out from the library, and I have put it to the top of my list of books to read. I need a catalyst to do things, and death seems as good as a reason as any. There’s something very appealing about death to us, even if the man was an extreme misogynist.
I also just finished Hwang’s M. Butterfly. I love it. I think, however, all of its critics would sum it up with this quote:
Helgo asks Gallimard, “Politics again? Why can’t they just hear it as a piece of beautiful music?” [On why Asians don’t like Madame Butterfly.]
Why the big deal about racial stereotypes in Madame Butterfly? Because it IS racist, and we should never forget that when listening to Puccini’s opera. M. Butterfly points that out in a beautiful, darkly hilarious way that I think is lost on many watchers/readers. Every time somebody listens to the opera, the lyrics and events reinforce an imperialistic attitude about the East. And it is deeply insulting, too. People accuse me of being “too serious” about some things. Give it up for a change, they urge, have some fun.
Perhaps I’m passionate about these things. Language and literature are weapons to be handled carefully. M. Butterfly has changed the way I look at Western and Eastern relationships (and the way I phrased that last sentence is a prime example of the current state of affairs. Western before Eastern, and, oh my, “Eastern” is with Europe as a reference frame).