Music

Paul McCartney Takes Wing – After the Beatles

In 1970 as the Beatles were quietly being dissolved, Paul McCartney came out with his first solo album titled simply McCartney on which he played all instruments, including drums. The album wasn’t remarkable except for one song, “Maybe I’m Amazed”, which later became a favorite at Wings concerts. It’s a tribute to his wife Linda and a humble admission of how much he leaned on her during the lonely separation from the musicians he had made music with for a decade, especially from Lennon. It’s a passionate song driven mostly by piano but including a nice electric guitar solo as well. “Maybe I’m Amazed” is a heartfelt soulful ballad that continues to be a favorite in concerts.

He was a one-man band for that album, but he then formed a band with Denny Laine from the Moody Blues, drummer Denny Seiwell and his wife Linda and went on one of the best runs of pop music of the 70s. It started with Ram, credited to “Paul and Linda McCartney”, which had the delightful hit “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey”. It’s a very complex song with four tempo changes and playful lyrics sung on one verse in a stuffy upper class British accent, with the sound of thunderstorms and birdcalls in the background. Linda McCartney contributes some nice background/harmony vocals that are part of the sound on this album and Wings albums.

We're so sorry, but we haven't heard a thing all day

We're so sorry, Uncle Albert

But if anything should happen

We'll be sure to give a ring

We're so sorry, Uncle Albert

But we haven't done a bloody thing all day

We're so sorry, Uncle Albert

But the kettle's on the boil

And we're so easily called away

Hands across the water (Water)

Heads across the sky

Hands across the water (Water)

Heads across the sky

Admiral Halsey notified me

He had to have a berth or he couldn't get to sea

I had another look and I had a cup of tea

And a butter pie (A butter pie?)

(The butter wouldn't melt, so I put it in the pie, alright?)

Hands across the water (Water)

Heads across the sky

Hands across the water (Water)

Heads across the sky

Live a little, be a gypsy, get around (Get around)

Get your feet up off the ground

Live a little, get around

Live a little, be a gypsy, get around (Get around)

Get your feet up off the ground

Live a little, get around

“Ram On” is the simplest song McCartney ever recorded – a simple melody with one brief verse repeated three times, but it’s probably the summation of his philosophy and way of life. Once he met Linda Eastman, a celebrated rock and roll photographer, his life was settled until she died of cancer. It’s accompanied by his ukelele, piano, even a kazoo toward the end. The cover of Ram shows McCartney dressed like a farmer holding a ram by its horns that have a double curve in them. He bought a farm in Scotland and spent time there to get away from the cities and the music world. It’s hard to say what meanings the words “ram on” had for him.

Ram on

Give your heart to somebody soon

Right away

McCartney’s music is fun to listen to because he has fun making it, playing with words like a kid, and with all kinds of sounds and vocals and continually taking the listener by surprise. The other standout on Ram is the high energy rocker “Monkberry Moon Delight”. with wonderfully nonsensical lyrics that builds on a driving beat while McCartney screams the lyrics in a rough voice.

So I sat in the attic, a piano up my nose

And the wind played a dreadful cantata (Cantata, cantata)

Sore was I from the crack of an enemy's hose

And the horrible sound of tomato (Tomato, tomato)

Catch up (Catch up)

Soup and puree (Soup and puree)

Don't get left behind (Get left behind)

Catch up (Catch up)

Soup and puree (Soup and puree)

Don't get left behind

(Get left behind, get left behind, get left behind)

When a rattle of rats had awoken

The sinews, the nerves, and the veins

My piano was boldly outspoken

And attempts to repeat his refrain

So I stood with a knot in my stomach

And I gazed at that terrible sight

Of two youngsters concealed in a barrel

Sucking monkberry moon delight

Monkberry moon delight

Well, I know my banana is older than the rest

And my hair is a tangled beretta (Beretta, beretta)

And when I leave my pajamas to Billy Budapest

And I don't get the gist of your letter (Your letter, your letter)

As with many of his songs, though catchy and amusing, the lyrics make no sense. But McCartney isn’t interested in saying something, only in making great music that he loves to play and is a joy to listen to. Most lyrics are enjoyable because they're surprising and interesting. Even the background singing by the band, including Linda McCartney, is interesting and adds to the songs.

After Ram the band became Wings and released Band on the Run, an absolute classic of pop music, but a thinking person’s pop music with great melodies, musicianship and vocals. There’s no pop album I know that is more of a pleasure and stimulating to listen to. The title cut is the highlight of the album, although not by much. McCartney envisions the singer in prison in the first verse in a quiet and slow, dreamy start.

Stuck inside these four walls

Sent inside forever

Never seeing no one nice again

Like you, mama

You, mama

You

If I ever get out of here

Thought of giving it all away

To a registered charity

All I need is a pint a day

If I ever get out of here

(If we ever get out of here)

The second stanza speeds up a bit with a rock beat and electric guitar and organ. Then the song kicks into high gear with horns and acoustic rhythm guitar with a solid drum beat and high energy rock and roll to frame the band as a gang of outlaws on the run from the law.

Well, the rain exploded with a mighty crash

As we fell into the sun

And the first one said to the second one there

"I hope you're having fun."

Band on the run, band on the run

And the jailer man

And sailor Sam

Were searching everyone

For the band on the run, band on the run

Well, the undertaker drew a heavy sigh

Seeing no one else had come

And a bell was ringing in the village square

For the rabbits on the run

Well, the night was falling

As the desert world began to settle down

In the town they're searching for us everywhere

But we never will be found

Band on the run, band on the run

And the county judge, who held a grudge

Will search for ever more

For the band on the run

Band on the run

There’s a theme of “the outlaw” running through music from old folk songs like “Pretty Polly” down through Woody Guthrie – “Pretty Boy Floyd” to Bob Dylan – “John Wesley Harding”, the Eagles – “Doolin-Dalton”, Paul Simon – “Keep the Customer Satisfied” and Happy and Artie Traum – “State Line”. Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson and Kris Kristofferson formed a group they called The Highwaymen, a term in England for robbers who waylaid travelers on country roads to rob them. I think there are plenty of more examples. Thinking back to what I wrote about the Eagles, the illusion of adolescence is often that the way to happiness is “breakin all the rules”. But as we grow older and mature, we find out it’s not so simple. James Dean died in a car crash in his sports car on the California coast highway going 100 mph. Breaking some rules, even laws, can be a mark of maturity and courage, like segregation and laws prohibiting homosexuality and interracial marriage. There are also good rules and laws, part of the social contract of civilization that protect us, and others from us.

McCartney plays rock and roll, which is mostly about the beat before rock and roll evolved into the elaborate guitar solos and heavy-handed instrumentation of rock music. There’s a lot of guitar and bass and organ in his music, but they’re mostly short fills driven by strong drums. “Band on the Run” has a steady and infectious drumbeat reminiscent of Ringo.

The mellow “Bluebird” is a love song with a really nice melody. It has a soft, unhurried drumbeat and a short but soulful saxophone solo. It’s a delightful song to listen to.

Late at night when the wind is still

I'll come flying through your door

And you'll know what love is for

I'm a bluebird

I'm a bluebird, I'm a bluebird, I'm a bluebird

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I'm a bluebird, I'm a bluebird, I'm a bluebird

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Touch your lips with a magic kiss

And you'll be a bluebird too

And you'll know what love can do

I'm a bluebird

I'm a bluebird, I'm a bluebird, I'm a bluebird

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I'm a bluebird, I'm a bluebird, I'm a bluebird

Yeah, yeah, yeah. . .

All alone on a desert island

We're living in the trees

And we're flying in the breeze

We're the bluebirds

We're the bluebirds, we're the bluebirds, we're the bluebirds

The album then shifts back to rock and roll with”Jet”, followed by “Mrs Vanderbilt” with the pulsing rhythm driven by McCartney’s very audible bass and a solid drum line. It also has some good saxophone fills, and ends with some cackling witch voices in the background that sound like they’re from The Wizard of Oz.

Down in the jungle, living in a tent

You don't use money, you don't pay rent

You don't even know the time, but you don't mind

Ho, hey ho

When your light is on the blink, you never think of worrying

What's the use of worrying?

When your bus has left the stop, you'd better drop your hurrying

What's the use of hurrying?. . .

Leave me alone, Mrs. Vanderbilt

I've got plenty of time of my own

What's the use of worrying?

What's the use of hurrying?

What's the use of anything?. . .

When your pile is on the wane

You don't complain of robbery (Oh, no)

Run away, don't bother me

What's the use of worrying? (No use)

What's the use of anything?

Leave me alone, Mrs. Washington

I've done plenty of time on my own

“Mamunia” is one of my favorite songs on the album. It’s an acoustic ballad with a world music sound to it and a poetic ecological theme. It’s the closest McCartney comes to any sort of political statement. McCartney’s bass is again prominent and drives the song, except with what sound like tablas or congas on the chorus. “Mamunia” is a diminutive Polish word for “mama”, according to Wiktionary.

The rain comes falling from the sky

To fill the stream that fills the sea

And that's where life began for you and me

So the next time you see rain it ain't bad

Don't complain, it rains for you

The next time you see L.A. rain clouds

Don't complain, it rains for you and me

Mamunia, mamunia, mamunia

Oh oh oh

Mamunia, mamunia

Oh oh oh oh oh

Mamunia, mamunia, mamunia

Oh oh oh

Mamunia, mamunia

Oh oh oh oh oh

It might have been a bright blue day

But rain clouds had to come this way

They're watering everything that they can see

A seed is waiting in the earth

For rain to come and give him birth

It's all he really needs to set him free

So the next time you see L.A. rain clouds

Don't complain, it rains for you

So lay down your umbrellas

Strip off your plastic macs Ooh Ooh

You've never felt the rain my friend

Till you've felt it running down your back

So the next time you see rain, it ain't bad

Don't complain, it rains for you

The next time you see L.A. rain clouds

Don't complain, it rains for you and me

“Helen Wheels” is just straight high-energy rock and roll fun with some blistering guitar work.

Said farewell to my last hotel,

it never was much kind of abode

Glasgow town never brought me down

when I was heading out on the road

Carlisle city never looked so pretty,

and the Kendal freeway's fast

Slow down driver, wanna stay alive,

I wanna make this journey last

Helen (Helen)

Hell on wheels

Ain't nobody else gonna know the way she feels

Helen (Helen)

Hell on wheels

And they're never gonna take her away

“Picasso’s Last Words” is a laid-back imagining of a party with Picasso and friends in which he tells them "Drink to me, drink to my health/You know I can't drink any more" after which he dies during the night. I don’t find any reference to Picasso saying this or being unable to drink, but he apparently entertained friends for dinner, painted until 3:00 AM, and died the next morning. So I think this is McCartney’s poetic license. It’s a languid song with acoustic guitar, then an interlude with clarinet and someone speaking French. The band then slips into a quiet chorus of “Jet”, then sounds of a party in French again, ending on a fadeout with the chorus of Mrs Vanderbilt. It’s an odd but very engaging, catchy song. There’s some brief and restrained use of strings also. It runs through my mind a lot after I hear it.

A grand old painter died last night

His paintings on the wall

Before he went, he bade us well

And said goodnight to us all

"Drink to me, drink to my health

You know I can't drink any more"

"Drink to me, drink to my health

You know I can't drink any more"

3 o'clock in the morning. I'm getting ready for bed

It came without a warning

But I'll be waiting for you baby

I'll be waiting for you there

So drink to me, drink to my health

You know I can't drink any more

Drink to me, drink to my health

You know I can't drink any more

The album ends with “Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five”, the most intense rock and roll music on the album. It’s backed with a pounding piano and a heavy drumbeat, a clarinet at the end and an extended climax at the end that builds to a loud rock and roll crescendo.

Oh, my mama said the time would come

When I would find myself in love with you

I didn't think, I never dreamed

That I would be around to see it all come true

Oh, I. . .

Well I just can't get enough

Of that sweet stuff

My little lady gets behind

Oh, no one ever left alive

In nineteen hundred and eighty-five

Will ever do

She may be right, she may be fine

She may get love but she won't get mine

'Cause I got you

Wings followed Band on the Run with the excellent Venus and Mars, which starts with the brief and mellow “Venus and Mars”, followed by the intense “Rock Show” about the experience of a band playing at large arenas.

There's a rock show at the Concertgebouw

They've got long hair at the Madison Square

You've got rock and roll at the Hollywood Bowl

We'll be there, oh yeah

The lights go down, they're back in town, O.K.

Behind the stacks, you glimpse an axe [guitar]

The tension mounts, you score an ounce, olé!

The temperatures rise as you see the whites of their eyes. . .

In my green metal suit, I'm preparing to shoot up the city

And the ring at the end of my nose makes me look rather pretty

It's a pity there's nobody here to witness the end

Save for my dear old friend and confidante, mademoiselle Kitty

It’s a concept album envisioning some future time and describing a guitar used by Jimmy Page as a “relic” and picking up on the outlaw theme – “preparing to shoot up the city”, with an apocalyptic note – “nobody here to witness the end”. It’s followed by a moody “Love in Song” and a Rudy Valee sounding “You Gave Me the Answer” reminiscent of “Honey Pie” from the Beatles’ "White Album", accompanied by cheery horns and clarinet.

Next comes one of the best songs on the album, “Magneto and Titanium Man”. “You were the law” makes no sense after the rest, but the outlaw theme runs from “She Came in through the Bathroom Window” through “Band on the Run” to this song. McCartney’s lyrics aren’t often deep but there’s a playfulness in them that’s always enjoyable. He sounds like he’s having fun writing and playing music, and it’s fun to listen to.

Well I was talking last night

Magneto and Titanium Man

We were talking about you, babe

They said

You was involved in a robbery

That was due to happen at a quarter to three

In the main street

I didn't believe them (I didn't believe them)

Magneto and Titanium Man

But when the Crimson Dynamo

Finally assured me, well, I knew

So we went out

Magneto and Titanium Man

And the Crimson Dynamo

Came along for the ride

We went to town with the library

And we swung all over that long tall bank

In the main street

Well there she were and to my despair

She's a five-star criminal breaking the code

Magneto said, "Now the time has come

To gather our forces and run!"

Oh, no, this can't be so

And then it occurred to me, you couldn't be bad

Magneto was mad, Titanium too!

And the Crimson Dynamo just couldn't cut it no more

You were the law

“Letting Go” is a slow rocker with heavy drum and base lines backed with horns and some nice electric guitar lines. It feels like a tribute to Linda with a minor key sound.

Ah, she tastes like wine

Such a human being so divine

Oh, she feels like sun

Mother Nature, look at what you've done

Oh (Oh), I feel like letting go

Oh, she looks like snow

I wanna put her in a Broadway show

Ah, she'll dance and dine

Like a Lucifer she'll always shine

“Spirits of Ancient Egypt” is a rocker with a haunting sound to it. I don’t know what spirits of ancient Egypt and shadows of ancient Rome have to do with it, but those lines with the spooky background singing lend the song its aura, accompanied by electric guitar and heavy drums.

You're my baby and I love you

You can take a pound of love and cook it in the stew

And when you've finished doing that, I know what you'll wanna do

'Cause you're my baby and I love you

I'm your baby, do you love me?

I can drive a Cadillac across the Irish Sea

But when I've finished doing that, I know where I'll wanna be

'Cause I'm your baby, and you love me

Spirits of ancient Egypt

Shadows of ancient Rome

Spirits of ancient Egypt

Hung on the telly, hung on the telly

Hung on the telephone

McCartney gets serious with the moody “Medicine Jar”, sounding a warning about prescription drug abuse he saw in those around him. This was before Lennon was shot and Harrison’s death from lung cancer, but there had been a lot of deaths of musicians he knew before that.

What's wrong with you? I wish I knew

You say time will tell, I hope that's true

There's more to life than blues and reds

I say I know how you feel now, your friends are dead

Dead on your feet, you won't get far

If you keep on sticking your hand in the medicine jar

Now don't give up, whatever you do

You say time will tell, I hope that's true

If you go down and lose your head

I say I know how you feel now, your friends are dead

A nice touch on the album is the tender “Treat Her Gently” combined with the sensitive and poignant “Lonely Old People”, reminiscent of John Prine’s “Hello in There”, Steve Goodman's "The Dutchman" and Simon and Garfunkel’s “Old Friends”.

Here we sit, two lonely old people

Eking our lives away

Bit by bit, two lonely old people

Keeping the time of day

Here we sit, out of breath

And nobody asked us to play

Old people's home for the day

Nobody asked us to play

The songs on Venus and Mars and Band on the Run are all good songs, enjoyable tunes that linger and replay in my mind with pleasure after I’ve heard them. McCartney doesn’t write many songs with a lot of depth, but his lyrics are full of enjoyable play with words, lots of musical surprises, interesting and fun to listen to. And I think now I have some understanding of what critics mean when they talk about arrangements. His songs are complex with lots of little instrumental fills, harmony and background voices and use of surprising instruments, including strings that don’t sound like an orchestra, placed in spots that enhance the richness of the music. I bought a few of his subsequent albums but wasn’t much captivated by any of them. Lennon’s “Imagine” and Harrison’s All Things Must Pass notwithstanding, these first post-Beatles McCartney/Wings albums are the best music any of the four ex-Beatles have made. He just came out with a new album in his 80s titled Boys of Dungeon Lane, which has been getting critical praise. But I never get tired of listening to Ram and these two early Wings albums.

Brett Nelson

Ry Cooder – Keeping the Music Alive

Ry Cooder is an unclassifiable musician. He’s explored every genre of North American music there is except for maybe bluegrass and ragtime, and done it with taste and beauty. He started with three albums that seemed intended to capture the sound of old-time recordings consisting of mostly blues and folk music but ranging into a Civil War camp song and the World War II song “Comin in on a Wing and a Prayer.” He’s even delved into Mexican, Hawaiian and Caribbean forms of music and played with some of the top musicians in those genres. Someone in Rolling Stone in the 70s or 80s called him a “musical archivist”.

Ry Cooder, his self-titled first album, starts off with the catchy “Alimony”, a lament before a judge by a man complaining about what a burden his alimony payments to an ex-wife are on his financial situation, with a loosely-strung guitar and “Gloria Jones & Co” singing backup.

Please, have mercy, judge your honor

I'm as poor as I can be

Ain't had money in my pockets

Since way back in fifty three

Can't you cut down all my payment?

Alimony is killing me

Alimony, alimony, alimony is killing me

Cooder rarely writes songs himself, except for an occasional instrumental, doing mainly covers of others’ songs, many of which are obscure tunes that he turns into gems. He sings Woody Guthrie’s “Do Re Mi” in a droll voice that’s a frequent style for Cooder, sounding very different than Guthrie.

Hey, if you ain't got the Do Re Mi, boy

If you ain't got the Do Re Mi

Well, you better go back to beautiful Texas

Oklahoma, Kansas, Georgia, Tennessee

California is the garden of Eden

It's a paradise to live in or see

But believe it or not

You won't find it so hot

If you ain't got the Do Re Mi

“How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live” is a gem of a Depression-era song by West Virginian folksinger Blind Alfred Reed, expressing an eloquent lament that must have voiced the feelings of many during that difficult time. They’re eloquent words that touched my heart the first time I heard it, a poignant expression of what it felt like to be poor in the Depression.

Well there once was a time when everything was cheap

Now prices nearly puts a man to sleep

Well, when we get our grocery bill

We just feel like making our will

Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live

It’s followed by a superb slide guitar instrumental penned by Cooder called “Available Space”, a Huddie Leadbetter (Lead Belly) tune called “Pigmeat”, and a cover of a blues tune called "Police Dog Blues” by Arthur Blake with great acoustic guitar picking.

His second album, Into the Purple Valley, starts with a Depression-era Okie anthem by Agnes Cunningham, “How Can Tou Keep on Movin (Unless You Migrate Too)”, telling of the double bind migrants from the Dust Bowl found themselves in the 30s when they were told to keep moving but blocked from entering the states they were moving to, usually California. It’s played at a lively pace with Cooder’s deft slide electric guitar work.

How can you keep on moving unless you migrate too

They tell ya to keep on moving but migrate, you must not do

The only reason for moving and the reason why I roam

To move to a new location and find myself a home

I can't go back to the homestead, the shack no longer stands

They said I was unneeded, had no claim to the land

They said, "Come on, get moving, it's the only thing for you"

But how can you keep moving unless you migrate too

Now if you pitch your little tent along the broad highway

The Board of Sanitation says, "Sorry, you can't stay"

Come on, come on, get moving it's their everlasting cry

Can't stay, can't go back, can't migrate, so where the hell am I

“FDR in Trinidad” is a Calypso version of another song from a “forgotten period of American history” (liner notes) that expresses local appreciation for the president visiting Trinidad and “keeping Trinidad in America”, with Cooder playing mandolin. It’s followed by a cover of 1959’s R&B tune “Teardrops Will Fall” with a nice rhythm section along with Cooder’s understated electric guitar.

I read your letter and tears filled my eyes

All of your promises fading, was nothing but lies

So I turned your photograph over, face to the wall

And when I dim the lights in my room tonight

Teardrops will fall

Teardrops will fall tonight

Tears I can't hide

Tears that I tried to keep

Deep down inside

Tears fall, a love that's gone

Beyond recall

And when I dim the lights in my room to night

Teardrops will fall

Lead Belly’s “On a Monday” follows, chronicling one of his many incarcerations. The album ends with a terrific and dark cover of Woody Guthrie’s “Vigilante Man”, with Cooder playing a wonderful low-register slide guitar that along with his vocals create a foreboding, haunted sound. While Guthrie wrote “I been hearin’ his name all over the land”, the line has an ominous tone because no name is given except “vigilante man”, implying that the only name the singer hears him called is “vigilante man”. The song echoes the situation with ICE today, except ICE agents wear masks like bandits, and there’s a horde of them, not just one.

Rainy nights down in the engine house

Sleepin' just as still as a mouse

A man came along and he chased us out in the rain

Was that a vigilante man?

Well, I rambled around from town to town

Now, I rambled around from town to town

And they herded us around like a wild herd of cattle

Was that the vigilante man?

Well, why does a vigilante man

Tell me why does a vigilante man

Carry that sawed-off shotgun in his hand?

Would he shoot his brother and sister down?

Have you seen that vigilante man?

I've been hearin' his name all over the land

Boomer’s Story was Cooder’s third album. Like his first two, it’s done in vocals and instrumental accompaniment that sound like old recordings made by John and Alan Lomax to document the old-time American music before it was lost to history, with the exception of occasional electric instruments and better sound reproduction. The title song is a droll expression of a man who tried to settle down but couldn’t stay put, with a great electric slide guitar.

Come and gather all around me

Listen to my tale of woe

Got some good advice to give you

Lots of things you oughta know

Take a tip from one who's travelled

And never stopped a-ramblin' 'round

'Cause once you get the roamin' fever

You never want to settle down, boy

You never want to settle down

I met a little gal in Frisco

I asked her to be my wife

Told her I was tired of roamin'

Gonna settle down for life

Then I heard the whistle blowin'

And I knew it was the Red Ball Train

And I left that gal beside the railroad

And I never saw the gal again, boy

I never saw the gal again

Saw the gal again

I never saw the gal again

Left that gal beside the railroad

And I never saw the gal again

It’s followed by a beautiful instrumental cover of a song by bluesman Skip James titled “Cherry Ball Blues”. He also does a gorgeous and delicate instrumental rendition of what sounds like a Mexican tune called “Maria Elena” by someone named Lorenzo Barcelata, with Randy Newman on piano. “Rally Round the Flag, Boys” is a Civil War camp song sung like a tired soldier sitting around a campfire, ("Yes, we'll rally 'round the flag, boys/We'll rally 'round again/Shouting the battle cry of freedom. . .And although he may be poor/Not a man shall be a slave/Shouting the battle cry of freedom"), and “Comin in on a Wing and a Prayer” sounds like a patriotic WW II song about a bomber coming back from a successful run with only one engine.

Cooder sings a blues song by Sleepy John Estes titled “Ax Sweet Mama,” and Estes himself sings “President Kennedy”, a lament about Kennedy’s death. Cooder follows that with “Good Morning, Mr Railroad Man”, a traditional song about a man slyly planning to hop a freight.

Good morning, Mr. Railroad Man

What time do your trains roll by?

At 9:16 and 2:44 and 25 minutes till 5

Well it’s 9:16 and 2:44 and 25 minutes till 5

Thank you, Mr. Railroad Man

I want to watch your trains go by. . .

Standing on a platform, smoking a cheap cigar

And waiting for an old freight train that carries an empty car

Well, I pulled my hat down over my eyes

And I walked across the tracks

I caught me the end of an old freight train

And I never did come back

With Paradise and Lunch Cooder stuck with the blues and folk phrasing and singing style of his first three albums but polished the accompaniment and production to issue a beautiful but still down home album with great song selections. It starts off with one of my favorites on the album, “Tamp Em Up Solid”. I don’t know what that means, though it seems I read somewhere that it had to do with spiking down new railroad track, but in any case the song is paying homage to a good-paying railroad job. It’s accompanied by lovely, restrained acoustic guitar and some soulful background singing, with voices like a distant train whistle at the end. His singing is always in his own voice but, like John Fogerty, sounds like he’s channeled the old-timey blues and folk voices that are his reference points.

Baby, when you marry a railroad man

Every day'll be pay day, dollar bill in your hand

Baby, in your hand, baby, in your hand

Mary and the baby laying in the bed

Thinking about the money that I ain't made

So tamp 'em up solid so they won't come down

Tamp 'em up solid, buddy, so they won't come down

Captain called the water boy and the water boy laughed

Captain kicked the water boy and it’s "Yes, yes, yes"

So tamp 'em up solid, so they won't come down

Tamp 'em up solid, buddy, so they won't come down

And you can do it, and you can do it, and you can do it

So they won't come down

It’s followed by “Tattler”, my favorite Ry Cooder song of all, a song by bluesman Washington Phillips. It’s accompanied by a tasty bass line and perhaps his most beautiful and sensitive electric guitar playing, “like ringing a bell”, culminating in a nice, gentle guitar fadeout.

Whenever you find a man that loves every woman he sees

There's always some kind of woman that's a-puttin' him up a tree

Now that kind of man, he ain't got as much sense as a mule

You know everyone don't love you, they're just a-playin' you for a fool

Mmmm, oh, no

It's not hard for you to understand

True love can be such a sweet harmony

If you do the best that you can

If you marry the wrong kind of woman and you get where you can't agree

Well, you just as well forget your hand and let that woman be

But a man oughta make a good husband and quit tryin' to lead a fast life

Goin' about dressin' up other women, won't put clothes on his own wife

Well, there's lots of good women who wants to marry, and they wants to live well at home

But they're 'fraid they'll might get hold of a rowdy man, can't let other women alone

And there's lots of good men wants to marry, and they wants to live well at home

But every time they turn their back, there's a man there askin', "Darlin', is he gone?"

Mmmm, oh, no

It's not hard for you to understand

True love can be such a sweet harmony

If you do the best that you can

Next comes the jaundiced cynicism of “Married Man’s a Fool” by bluesman Blind Willie McTell warning men to not expect most wives to be any more faithful than men as a gender usually get, or don’t get, credit for. It’s accompanied by a droll slide guitar and male harmony singers on the chorus. The women in his songs come off less favorably than the men.

Had a friend, Louie Brown, he was a deacon

Just as wise as he could be

Now you realize he could read the Good Book

Back from Revelation down to Genessee

You know last Sunday morning we was over to the church

My buddy wants to take him a stand

And he looks out upon that whole congregation

The Good Book in his hand

Now he cast his eye about, and then he looks over inyo Amen Corner

All the sisters commenced to shout (WHAT’D HE SAY?!!)

He said a married man's a fool

to think that his wife love nobody else but him

She stick by you all your life, the chances is mighty slim

Now you read the Good Book, chapter twenty-one

Every married woman got to have a little fun. . .

Now you read on over twenty-fifth page

Married woman's role is hard to engage

Read kinda careful, chapter twenty-six

Back door slamming, you got to run and get it fixed

Read on out, chapter twenty-eight

Who's that back slidin' out through your back gate?

I believe I'll close on chapter twenty-nine

Woman get tired of the same man all the time (sung in a deep, resonant voice by Bobby King)

'Cause a man's a fool to think that his wife love nobody else but him

I mean love nobody else but him

He delves into R&B with the infectious Latin beat of “It’s All Over Now”, then revives an old Burt Bacharach/Bob Hilliard tune, the beautiful, touching “Mexican Divorce”.

Down below El Paso lies Juarez

Mexico is different, like the travel folder says

Cross the Rio Grande and you will find

An old adobe house

Where you leave your past behind

One day married, next day free

Broken hearts for you and me

Takes no time for you to get

A Mexican divorce

I came into this lonely house last night

I looked out all my windows but I couldn't find one light

I found you on that road to Mexico

And now, my love, I beg

Please, oh, please, don't go. . .

Finding love takes so long

Walking out, well must be wrong

It's a sin for you to get a Mexican divorce

One day married, next day free

Broken hearts for you and me

It's a sin for you to get a Mexican divorce

It’s a Mexican-flavored song with an up-tempo, almost Calypso rhythm, accompanied by what sounds like vibes or marimba, horns, nice harmony singing and Cooder’s tasty guitar. The album ends with “Ditty Wah Ditty”, a tongue-in-cheek song by Arthur Blake about a thick-headed man trying to find out what “ditty wah ditty means”. Blake is spoofing us, and it’s not clear whether Mr Ditty Wah Ditty is also feigning the puzzlement he voices, since he calls his hat “ditty wah ditty”.

There's a great big mystery

And it sure is worrying me

It's a ditty wah ditty

Mister ditty wah ditty

I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means. . .

Now, I went to church, put my hat on the seat

A lady sat on it and said, "Daddy you sho' is sweet"

Mister ditty wah ditty

I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means

I said, "Sister, I'll soon be gone

Just give me that thing that you're sitting on"

My ditty wah ditty

Mister ditty wah ditty

I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means

Then I got put outta church

'Cause I talked about ditty wah ditty too much

Mister ditty wah ditty

I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means

His acoustic guitar-playing on the song is accompanied wonderfully on piano by famed jazz musician Earl Fatha Hines – according to Ken Burns’ Jazz "one of a small number of pianists whose playing shaped the history of jazz". It’s a delight to hear them weave around each other and take little solo runs, both with a light-fingered touch. It’s irresistible enjoyment to listen to the song.

Paradise and Lunch was followed by Chicken Skin Music, implying perhaps that it was music to give you what we call goose bumps. It begins with the Lead Belly tune “Bourgeois Blues” with Cooder’s old-timey acoustic “bottleneck” guitar playing, accordion and bajo sexto, a Tex-Mex /Mexican guitar with twelve paired strings.

Me and my wife went all over town

And everywhere we went people turned us down

Lord, in the bourgeois town

It's a bourgeois town

I got the bourgeois blues

Gonna spread the news all around

Home of the brave, land of the free

I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie

Lord, in a bourgeois town

Uhm, the bourgeois town

I got the bourgeois blues

Gonna spread the news all around

Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs

When I heard the white man say

"I don't want no niggers up there"

Lord, in a bourgeois town

Uhm, bourgeois town

I got the bourgeois blues

Gonna spread the news all around. . .

I tell all the colored folks to listen to me

Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC

'Cause it's a bourgeois town

Uhm, the bourgeois town

I got the bourgeois blues

Gonna spread the news all around

Next comes the comic “I Got Mine”, a traditional song in which the meaning of “I got mine” does an about-face. Cooder’s electric guitar and mandolin are accompanied by experienced session players Jim Keltner on drums and Chris Etheridge on a prominent bass line, plus a horn section that makes the song sound like it’s being played by a Salvation Army band.

Now I went down to the big crap game

Certainly was against my will

I lost every doggone nickel I had

But a greenback dollar bill

Forty dollar bet laid on the floor

My buddy's point was nine

Well, the police they come

And they caught all of 'em

But I got mine

I got mine, let me tell ya

I got mine

I grabbed that money

Out the back door I went flying

Well, ever since the big crap game

I've been livin' on chicken and wine

I'm the leader of society

Since I got mine. . .

I went down to my best girl's house

The hour was just about nine

I wasn't dressed up like Henry Ford

But I was feeling just as fine

I caught her sitting on another man's knee

And I didn't like that sign

Well, I told em what I thought about it, boys

And I got mine

I got mine, I got mine

I grabbed my hat and through the window

I went flying

I ran as fast as I could run

But I didn't get there in time

Because the rascal grabbed a shotgun, Lord

And I got mine. . .

I just didn’t run fast enough. . .

He follows that with a beautiful and tender Hawaiian steel and “slack-key” guitar version of another song by folksinger Blind Alfred Reed, “Always Lift Him Up”, with beautiful harmony vocals by Bobby King, Terry Evans and Herman Johnson. It’s combined with a gorgeous instrumental, “Kanaka Wai Wai” with famed Hawaiian musicians Gabby Pahinui on Hawaiian steel guitar and Atta Isaacs playing something called slack-key guitar. Cooder plays an electric guitar that’s as beautiful as that on “Tattler”. He sometimes plays an electric guitar that rivals a harp in beauty of tone.

When a fellow has the blues and feels discouraged

And there's nothing else but trouble all his life. . .

If he cannot pay his debts and feels disgusted

If he's blue and doesn't have a word to say

Let him know you are his friend who can be trusted

It would cheer this lonely fellow on his way

If he finds it hard for him to keep his family

Let a kind word greet his ear when he's around

Don't say anything at all to make against him

Always lift him up and never knock him down

If he has no friends and everyone's against him

If he's failed at everything that he has tried

Try to lift his load, to help to bear his burden

Let him know that you are walking by his side

And if he feels that all is lost, and he is falling

Try to place that poor man's feet on solid ground

Just remember he's a mother's precious darling

Always lift him up and never knock him down

Perhaps the highlight of the album is Cooder’s cover of the Ben E King/Lieber/Stoller rock and roll hit “Stand By Me”, done with a Mexican flavor with Tex-Mex star Flaco Jimenez on accordion. He’s also accompanied by Jim Keltner, Chris Etheridge of Flying Burrito Brothers fame and Milt Holland on percussion, as he is on many of the songs on the album. It’s a simple song, but sung with great feeling by Cooder.

When the night is come and the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

I won't be afraid, I won't be afraid

Just as long as you stand by me

Stand by me, stand by me, stand by me

Won't you stand by me

Woh oh woh oh, stand by me, stand by me. . .

He then shifts to country and western with a slow Hank Snow ballad, “Yellow Roses” which he also sings with tender emotion.

I just received, sweetheart, your yellow roses

You tell me that they mean we're all through

You tell me that tonight your heart is broken

But you should know I was never untrue

I'll place them near your photograph and as the petals fall

They'll hide from you my lonely tears that shouldn't fall at all

Then they will slowly fade away and die

But I’ll still love you though yellow roses say goodbye

It’s followed by a lovely Gus Kahn Great American Songbook instrumental, “Chloe”. Both of these songs are played Hawaiian style with Gabby Pahinui on steel guitar and Atta Isaacs on slack-key guitar, an old style of guitar playing traditional in Hawaii. The album then ends with Lead Belly’s “Goodnight Irene”, with lyrics not heard in the cleaned up 50s version by The Weavers. It’s a wonderful version played with Cooder on a different electric guitar than on “Tattler” and “Always Lift Him Up”, and a Tex-Mex band including Flaco Jimenez on accordion that stays with you long after you’ve listened to it.

I asked your mother for you

She told me that you was too young

I wish dear Lord I never have seen your face

And I'm sorry that you ever been born

Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight

Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene

I'll get you in my dreams

Sometimes I lives in the country

And sometimes I lives in town

Sometimes I have a great notion

To jump into the river and drown. . .

I loves Irene, God knows I do

Loves her till the sea runs dry

If Irene turns her back on me

I'm gonna take morphine and die

Stop ramblin' and stop gamblin'

Quit staying out late at night

Come home to your wife and your family

Sit down by the fireside bright

Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight

Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene

I'll get you in my dreams

Cooder runs the gamut of 20th century American music – the blues of Lead Belly, Blind Willie McTell and Sleepy John Estes; folk songs of Woody Guthrie, Agnes Cunningham and Blind Alfred Reed; calypso; Hawaiian slack-key and steel guitar music; Tex-Mex (Norteno) music; rhythm and blues; rock and roll; Great American Songbook tunes; country and western; jazz with Earl Fatha Hines and an album titled Jazz with Bix Beiderbecke tunes; plus a couple soldier tunes from the Civil War and WW II. He’s played with Vishwa Mohan Bhatt from India and other World Music musicians from Africa and the Middle East, Gordon Lightfoot, Taj Mahlal, Linda Ronstadt, Van Morrison, The Chieftains, Eric Clapton, Neil Young, the Rolling Stones and John Lee Hooker. He also made a CD and a euphoric worldwide hit movie, titled Buena Vista Social Club, with Cuban musicians in Cuba ending up at Carnegie Hall, directed by Wim Wenders and available on DVD. Rolling Stone rated him 8th on their 2003 list of greatest guitarists of all time.

What he does, like John Fogerty with the blues and country and western, is recreate these various genres with what sounds like the vocal styles and speech inflections of the originals, with fantastic guitar work and other instrumental accompaniment enhanced by other superb musicians, while still retaining his own voice. He doesn’t just do that in a technical sense but with a love for the music and an ability to bring out the emotional quality of the songs. Because of that he’s a musician and singer I never get tired of hearing.

Brett Nelson

The Pendulum Swing in the Stages of Life

In the 80s my brother recommended to me an excellent book by psychologist Daniel Levinson titled The Seasons of a Man’s Life. A second book titled The Seasons of a Woman’s Life was completed by his wife Judy Levinson after his death in 1994. Later I read journalist Gail Sheehy’s 1976 bestseller titled Passages, chosen by the Library of Congress as one of the ten most influential books of our time, which drew from Levinson’s research. Both books took Erik Eriksson’s theory of the developmental stages of life as a starting point, which probably had more widespread popularity than any psychological theory I can think of. Every psychology student who takes a course in personality theory studies it, and introductory psychology courses usually touch on it.

Much of the attention for these books was focused on what’s popularly referred to as the “midlife crisis,” which is actually a natural transition from middle adulthood to mature adulthood that can be disorienting or at least unsettling but I think generally becomes a “crisis” only for those who react out of a disproportionate and irrational fear about growing older and their mortality. It’s usually thought of as coming in your 40s, but often happens in one’s 50s or even 30s, as in my case when I hit a dead end with a job I thought was turning into a rewarding career. Surprisingly, those who fear the approach of death find that it usually disappears after a few years instead of continuing to get worse as they get older as you might expect. But the books cover the entire adult life cycle from the “terrible twos” to retirement and are absorbing and enlightening to read.

Understanding Eriksson’s life stages was always helpful for clients, but about halfway through my thirty-one years as a counselor and psychotherapist I began to see an additional pattern that helped me and my clients understand their experience with life stages more fully in themselves and in their children. The idea that life has a series of stages with different tasks to be faced and resolved seemed very clear and useful in understanding what life requires of us at different points in our journey through it. But I also saw a yin/yang alternation that swings back and forth like a pendulum throughout the life cycle. Understanding that swing of the pendulum helped clients understand their adult experience and helped parents understand their kids’ behaviors and how to deal with them as well. It helped parents see the changes as having a purpose and ease their frustrations and anxieties about them, while still setting limits where necessary for their children’s well-being.

Erikson’s theory initially focused largely on early child development. Between the ages of one-and-a-half and three years old, a child begins to be able to do things by themselves and begins to assert their will as they explore the world around them. They learn the word “no” and as most parents know they can be very insistent about what they do and don’t want to do. Parents sometimes refer to this age as the “terrible twos,” but it’s a time when kids are beginning to flex their independence muscles. It’s like there’s a built-in psychological clock in our neurological networks that sets this off.

Then when a child reaches the age of five or six they start school in kindergarten or elementary school, which requires following the rules, obeying the teacher, sitting quietly in their place at times and cooperating with other kids. It’s a big adjustment for kids used to playing all day. It’s also a lesson that obedience is important in a larger world than the family. This is a swing of the pendulum away from independence toward socialization that involves a suppression of ego and individuality in favor of cooperation and consideration of others. That process continues until about twelve or thirteen years old.

Then the bombshell of puberty hits, with surging hormones and interest in the opposite sex escalating. The acceptance of peers often becomes more important than the approval of parents, which leads to all kinds of behaviors that flirt with the edges of parental acceptability or push past those limits. It’s a movement back in the direction of independence. Kids want to wear different kinds of clothes than their parents have dressed them in, listen to music their parents may think is awful and even develop their own language in slang expressions that can be a code parents don’t understand. They’re independent to a degree, but they tend to group themselves in cliques within which there is usually a high degree of conformity, as in having to have the same kinds of clothes that other kids in the group are wearing, especially wanting the “new new thing” like the latest cell phone. It’s a guarded move toward individuality and independence while still being dependent and conforming within the security of the peer group.

Adolescence also can be a sort of prep school for adulthood. As adults we have to obey the laws – the “social contract”, as we learn in our early school years, but we will also likely need to be able to say no to some authority figures or powerful personalities in our lives. That may be leaving an unacceptable work situation, saying no to a boss literally, or to dominating people or to abusive behavior from someone. So adolescent limit-testing is an unconscious development of skills that they will need as adults, both in asserting themselves and in assessing limits – how far is far enough and how much is too far. Minority teenagers have to learn a delicate dance of what they can resist safely with police and what they can’t. Resisting authority for them is a skill that can carry serious consequences, as we see often on the nightly news. And career civil servants in Washington now are having to make decisions about what they can resist in ways they’ve never had to before.

Adolescence ends when we enter the workplace, where we have to make ourselves acceptable to employers to get hired and follow directions from superiors to stay hired. We need to perform well enough to keep a job. It’s no longer a matter of getting good grades to please parents or be proud of ourselves – we have to make a living. This is a swing of the pendulum back toward socialization, even if we’re now living independently on our own. Although it’s getting harder and harder for young people entering the workforce, we want to make enough money to own a serviceable vehicle to get us to work, rent an apartment and buy groceries, clothes and household supplies. Eventually most of us want to own a home if we can.

The task in early adulthood for men and for most women, at least temporarily, is to make a place for themselves in the occupational world as an independent adult instead of a dependent child. For most people, it’s also marrying and sooner or later starting a family. Some women leave the workplace to focus on raising children, although many stay in the work world and play a double role, usually sharing family responsibilities with their husbands or partners. Both employment and developing a relationship with a spouse or partner as well as raising children require a suppression of ego, individuality and independence to balance with the needs of others – another period of socialization. So we put certain parts of ourselves on the shelf that don’t facilitate those things.

Early adulthood is a prolonged stage, but somewhere in our 40s or sometimes 50s most of us reach a degree of security where we’ve established our place in the world. Most of us know how to do what we’re doing in a job or career and are not on the steep learning curve we were on when we entered the work world. Our children have moved into adulthood or are about to. Like riding a bike, we don’t have to put as much energy into doing what we’ve learned to do to get us where we are. Also, as children leave home their absence often leaves a void when so much of life has revolved around parenting, especially for women who have not had a career.

This is when many people start to wonder “Is this all there is to life?” We often start to feel like something’s missing, frequently related to parts of ourselves that we put on the back burner in early adulthood that make their voices known. People start to sense that half their life is over, and there’s only so much time left to do things they’ve contemplated doing but never found the time or taken the chance. These can involve a second career option, creative pursuits, learning to play a musical instrument, starting a business or world travel. Whatever it is, there’s a sense of time running out and diminishing opportunity to follow paths we’ve told ourselves we wanted to do someday.

Carl Jung referred to it as the second half of life. It’s a transition from one life stage to another – early adulthood to middle or mature adulthood. He called the process individuation and saw it as moving toward a rounding out or broadening of one’s self to become more whole and balanced, more fully what we are in potential. It’s another swing of the pendulum back toward independence and individuality. Not everyone experiences a transition like this. Some people are happy with a life that embodies all that they are. For someone who has no unmet desires or dreams mature adulthood may be mostly a continuation and enrichment of early adulthood.

Retirement, however, constitutes its own life stage and precipitates its own life stage transition. For those working full-time, it creates an eight-hour void of time that has to be filled. For those who know exactly how they want to fill that time, the transition may be smooth. Even then there can be a sense of loss of identity, especially if the person has much of his or her identity and sense of worth wrapped up in the role of their job or profession. But for those who are unclear about how they want to or can fill those hours, it can create a feeling of being lost – What do I do now? Sitting around watching TV and playing computer games may be a way to pass the time to some degree, but those things are not going to provide the sense of a new identity with purpose, meaning and satisfaction.

Some people fill their new lives with creative activities they’ve always wanted to pursue like making furniture, painting, photography or quilting, perhaps even selling their creations to supplement their income. Others may find they have a passion for some kind of volunteer work. Another person may want to start their own business. I know a couple who traded their house for a large motor home and had a great time traveling all over the country visiting friends and family for years. Whatever it is, it has to provide a sense of purpose and give meaning to their lives if it’s going to fill the void from the loss of what one has been doing for eight hours a day for many years, no matter how badly one wants to quit that job.

Retirement doesn’t necessarily continue the pattern of the pendulum swing from socialization to independence and back again, unless a person devotes themselves to volunteer work in a nonprofit agency serving lots of people. Some may also become more social with activities in senior centers which at their best can provide a community that offers social activities, exercise and recreational activities and educational offerings. But for many it can be more of an extension of independence into a new arena with different activities. For some it may be like their midlife transition if it’s the first time they have pursued parts of themselves they put in the closet when they entered the workplace in their twenties, especially if they are able to retire at a young age. Jung believed that we become more “whole” in mature adulthood, and I think that leaves us more options.

Then there are those who never retire because they’re already doing what they want to do for the rest of their lives and they’re able to continue doing it until the day they die. This is true for many artists and other creative people who’ve been pursuing their passions their whole adult lives. Tony Bennett, Helen Mirren, Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen are prime examples of that. Richard Attenborough, Mother Theresa and Albert Schweitzer are other examples. Even some politicians who are largely motivated by public service goals fit this category, like Bernie Sanders.

Transitions between life stages are always unsettling, often disorienting and can at times produce a psychological crisis. Moving from one stage of life to another involves activities and behaviors a person hasn’t done before or hasn’t done very much. I’ve already detailed the new behaviors children have to adjust to when they start school. The adjustment to puberty and changing relationship to the opposite sex, with the anxieties, excitements and heartbreaks that go with that have been written about extensively. The conflicts with parents and testing of limits are also well-documented. Challenging authority is something that’s uncommon in children before adolescence. But it’s common with teenagers and not without some anxiety. Entering the workforce involves major adjustments from adolescent challenges to authority and limit-testing to bowing to authority and to making oneself a desirable job candidate and following the boss’s direction to keep the job. Challenging authority and testing limits in the work world can be done to some extent but usually in very limited ways if you want to stay employed, unless you’re in a union. Making any major change in a person’s worklife or in a marriage at midlife involves new behaviors or activities and risks that can be anxiety-provoking. And I’ve just described the difficulties and disturbances that can accompany retirement.

But the challenge of such changes also forces us to learn and grow and develop new parts of ourselves that can be rewarding and exhilarating, broadening and deepening the person we are. Life stage transitions can be some of the most rewarding and exciting times of our lives rather than crises, even when they come with uncertainty and anxiety.

Brett Nelson

Some Guidelines for Midlife and Other Life Stage Transitions

View the “crisis” as an opportunity and a message from your psyche that it’s out of harmony.

Don’t judge or reject your feelings or ideas outright as “crazy” or “stupid”.

Live with your fantasies for a while, sort out what’s meaningful and what isn’t before acting on them.

Don’t make a major decision until you know what your feelings are about.

Talk it over with others who have been through it, or with a counselor.

Re-evaluate your values, goals, purpose and direction in life.

“Don’t throw the baby out . . .” – decide what’s worth saving from your current way of life.

Learn to dialogue with your intuitive inner voice.