Monthly Archives: August 2017

Clifford Odets (YGtCTO Words #67)

Waiting for Lefty


Play written by Clifford Odets

Essentially, politics is socializing with the goal of organizing. That certainly runs the gamut from the building the pyramids through waging war and on into bureaucracy. In some ways, it could not be more anathema to art, especially those forms created by individuals. Surely, politics is no less worthy a subject than any other, but art always starts with a point of view. For this reason, art always arrives after the boundaries of the discussion (the socializing, if you will) have already been defined. Art can certainly help organize (consider political posters), but they are evoking an emotional response in support of a political goal. Basically, here is what we believe and we should feel good about it. Yep- politics is about manipulation and art is another available tool.

Few dramatists have been as intertwined with politics as Odets. Generally, politics are of the moment and creating art that comments on current events leads to lost relevance as time passes. Universality is the solution. Shakespeare pointed the way, finding emotions and situations in historical events and well-known tales that could speak to common experience. We don’t “get” his political commentary any more than we get it from the Bible or Charles Dickens. We might hand wave at their place on the spectrum of social justice, but it doesn’t speak to us with anything near the original feeling of the creating artist.

So, it is strange to read Odets more than eight decades down the road and sense an unfortunate prescience. Truly, the first thing that struck me was his quality as a writer. For some reason, that always seems to fall by the wayside, but I have now revisited a number of artists that brought me youthful pleasure and been a bit disappointed. Odets could weave a dramatic story that I once again wanted to see through to the end.

Any look at history
demonstrates the weave of political strains as conservative and liberal ideas ebb and flow. The pattern includes long and short waves, localized and widespread. It does seem you can count on whatever appears popular now will lose favor soon enough before returning under a slightly different guise.

Clifford Odets

Odets was associated with communism and socialism, though the labels quickly became pejorative within his lifetime. He testified before HUAC during the witch hunts, naming names that he believed the committee already had. His earliest and best known plays raise numerous ideas about the plight of families struggling to make it within the bounds of American capitalism. Inevitably, he portrays tragedy met with stoicism.

Frankly, he comes across as sympathetic to those struggling to make ends meet or get ahead. He respects their intelligence enough to grant his characters the ability to wonder where their own best interests may lie as well as the best way forward for their community.

As I said, what goes around, comes around and we find ourselves living in a world where Odets feels relevant again. The blessing of his writing may be that he succeeds without pointing at specific solutions. I don’t recall Shakespeare having a lot of answers that didn’t involve death or a laugh, so I’m not going to start holding that against an artist.

What’s it all about?

You’ve Got to Check This Out is a blog series about music, words, and all sorts of artistic matters. It started with an explanation. 100 more to go.

New additions to You’ve Got to Check This Out release regularly. Also, free humor, short works, and poetry post irregularly. Receive notifications on Facebook by friending or following Craig.

Images may be subject to copyright.

Moxy Früvous (YGtCTO Music #67)

Gulf War Song

Song written and performed by Moxy Früvous

Canada was Neil Young and William Shatner. What else could it be?

So, I got in a car with two friends and we drove from Boston to Montreal because that was what you could do when you had a car available and some time on your hands. Among other things, we wandered around the old city at night. I was looking for some true North music, which I assumed meant the Guess Who or Rush. Instead, we found a large club with a solo artist sitting on a stool on a raised platform and singing in French. “Ah, so this is authentic Canadian music,” I thought to myself.

A few years later, I spent some months in southern Ontario going to school. Desperate for any entertainment, I went with friends to the local county/state/province fair. I was told that we would be staying for the concert. So, we explored a little and then joined other young people packing the racetrack stands.

Soon enough, four guys came out dressed outlandishly- kind of like pirates with a foreshadowing of 80’s dance wear. Their instruments included an accordion, a guitar, and a drum kit that would have made the Stray Cats wonder what happened to the rest of it. They also sang tremendously well. Their songs were witty and… “Ah, so this is authentic Canadian music,” I thought to myself.

Moxy Früvous

I wanted

to bring home some memories, so I bought their cassette tape. After all, that’s what you could play in the car. I had expectations- they had done a cover of the Spider-man cartoon theme from the Sixties. What I did not expect was how fantastic all of it was. The humor included some social commentary, so you knew they were absorbing the world around them.

Then, the final song arrived. I don’t remember if they performed it at the fairgrounds, but I did see them perform it on television once.

I was six years old on May 4, 1970, and 40 miles from Kent, Ohio. My questions had to wait until I knew enough to form them. Though, I heard that song long before that- another song that came from a Canadian.

Realistically, a protest song wrapped in a package from Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young is not much of a surprise. The brilliance of it feels like a given. But listening to Video Bargainville, you know these guys are good, perhaps even great. I still have King of Spain on rotation for wake-up songs, but… the Gulf War Song is another level entirely.

Moxy signed with a bigger label and toured the United States- even played a big concert near my home. They dissolved soon thereafter. I’m not at all sure what this says about being an artist in the shadow of the biggest market on the planet- not even sure it comments on anything more than artistic ambition.

By the way, I am older and wiser now. I know that real authentic Canadian music is by Dolores Claman.

What’s it all about?

You’ve Got to Check This Out is a blog series about music, words, and all sorts of artistic matters. It started with an explanation. 101 more to go.

New additions to You’ve Got to Check This Out release regularly. Also, free humor, short works, and poetry post irregularly. Receive notifications on Facebook by friending or following Craig.

Images may be subject to copyright.

The Paradox of Zeno and Adolescence

Around 2004, I sat down to write some thoughts about my high school years. This is as far as I got at the time.

Adolescence, like a pothole, looks best in the rear-view mirror.

By stopping there, I probably proved the falsity of that statement. I don’t know if it ever looks better or worse than it was. But it is over and done.

Six years later, I cleverly started a teen-age zombie novel, in order to cash in on the waning interest on such a thing. I rather like the words, but this has been abandoned… perhaps abandoned like the corpse of a friend in a zombie flick… seen in the rear-view mirror…

The Paradox of Zeno

 Tap.  Pitter.  Tap-tap.  Tat-tap. TAP!

Karen opened one eye.  Her alarm would go off any minute.

Tap-tap.

Click.

Talking to myself and feeling old
Sometimes I’d like to quit
Nothing ever seems to fit
Hangin’ around, nothing to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down

Karen stared at her iHome alarm clock.  Everything was better with Karen C. in the room.  She didn’t need to set it on the weekend, but she hated getting out of her routine.  Repetition proved that she could rely on herself.  Even so, that didn’t mean that she had to be a slave to the alarm.  On weekends, she woke to the Carpenters, which was on her list of facts about herself that could never be discussed.

Things that Karen never discusses

  • She liked the Carpenters.
  • Her mother was all right.
  • She wanted to go to college more than she wanted to be around boys.
  • Zombies really suck.

The first three were too private and the last one seemed like a generally agreed upon thing that nobody ever said.

Something was tapping on the window in the other room.  It was very annoying.

Karen dragged herself across her bedroom and plopped before her computer, jostling the screensaver away.  Facebook came up on the screen.  She scanned it quickly.  Nobody’s status had changed overnight.  She stared at one icon for a little longer—still no update from Stacy.  It had been two weeks.

Karen scratched her belly.  She grabbed the BB gun from beside her bed.  She could come back for the shotgun if she needed it.  The tapping came from her parents’ bedroom.  She nudged the door open, thinking how they only closed it when they were groping one another.  There they were, sound asleep.  Her father snored like a sick cat.

The curtains were drawn, but the tapping continued on their window.  Padding softly across the room, Karen nudged the curtain open.  It took her a minute to see through the chicken wire on the other side of the glass.  She flinched when there was another tap, but it only confirmed her suspicions.  There was another one up in the tree outside.

She went through the hall to the bathroom where she could open the window and it was not so close to the old oak tree in the yard.  Her dad had modified the window so that there was a small, hinged area that a gun could fit through.  That was months ago.  Karen opened the portal.  She could see the zombie perched on the branch.  It was tossing stones and acorns at the house.  A couple others wandered through the Bensons’ old home up the street, but that was all the activity outside.

Karen pumped the BB gun and aimed carefully.  It was loaded with metal ball bearings.  She fired twice.  The zombie groaned and tumbled from the tree.  After a few moments, it struggled to its feet and staggered away.  Its head and right arm had twisted out of symmetry.

Karen latched the window and leaned the gun against the toilet.  Staring into the mirror, she said, “You have got to get some sun.”

Hesitating at the head of the stairs, Karen threw the light switch for the first floor.  She listened carefully for any sounds—nothing.  She headed down to the kitchen.  The gloom of the first floor enveloped her.  Her parents had never gotten around to completely evacuating the lower floors.  Her parents had reinforced the walls and boarded over the windows.  The neighbors had caused a stink about linking up with Karen’s house, but that ended once the Bensons’ stopped having a vote.  Besides, that had been a year ago when they had the only Hummer on the block.

She pulled a box of Captain Crunch from the shelf.  She had been way into Cheerios when she was on the swim team, but that had fallen by the wayside, along with the swim team.  Also, she preferred Captain Crunch dry, what with milk being a rarity—just another thing to be grateful for.

How It Happened

Glad you asked.  Old news, but here goes– Haiti had an earthquake.  The President made a very public speech about how bad it was and how bad he felt and how we needed to do something.  What he meant was that people should give all their spare change to the Red Cross and he would send the Vice-President down there to shake hands and hug some babies.  Everybody knew that the Vice-President wasn’t going to run for President, so it wasn’t like sending the heir apparent, but the President was busy with wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, so the Haitians should be happy with what they could get.

Well, maybe they weren’t.

Next thing you know, the Vice President disappeared.  It seems that Haiti post-earthquake defied the ability of the U.S. Secret Service to maintain a decent caravan.  Or maybe they realized that it was only the Veep and they had an off day.  So, the “Prince of the Senate” disappears for two days without a word.  The whole nation starts wringing its hands.  Then, video starts cropping up on YouTube and other places showing some crazy guy who looks like the Veep.  The only problem is that he seems to be a zombie, only nobody is saying that he’s a zombie because nobody believes in zombies.  So, the Secret Service sends in the cavalry to rescue the wayward charge.  Who knows how many agents were lost, but they got him back on Air Force Two and on the way home.

More videos from the hospital show a very disgusting site.  More and more medical staff go into quarantine.  Various politicians follow them, though not before infecting their fellow Congressmen, Senators,… and President.  It turns out that country takes a week or two to notice that it’s being run by zombies.