I cannot let the weekend pass without mentioning the passing of Don Van Vliet, otherwise known as Captain Beefheart, who died Friday in California. Along with his Magic Band, he entered my consciousness back in 1974 or so. Back then I used to listen to some strange output from my roommate’s stereo in a student flat in Earls Court in London - “Trout Mask Replica” “21st Century Quaker” - and the music as strange as the song titles.
Bit it was also oddly compelling, and I still have two CD’s of Captain Beefheart and his Magic band, “Clear Spot” and “the Spotlight Kid” which I have plugged into the car stereo and have been playing all over the weekend in homage to the maestro, as we were driving around doing Christmas shopping and other things. It’s a mix of gutsy blues and avant garde funky jazz, inspires by the likes of Howlin’ Wolf and Lightnin’ Hopkins. Black meets white, rural meets urban, acoustic meets electric. For sure, not your average Christmas music, except perhaps for Track 9, entitled “There ain’t no Santa Claus on the Evenin’ Stage”
There ain’t no way t’ pull the curtain
‘N hide from hunger’s rage
There ain’t no town t’ stop in
There ain’t no time t’ stop in
There ain’t no straw for my horse
There ain’t no straw for my bed
There ain’t no comfort in cold boards
There ain’t no rumours or food for my stomach
‘N someday I’m gonna be saved
‘Cause I gotta eat ‘n drink ‘n breathe ‘n sleep
‘N I’m ah slave
No, it doesn’t sound at all Christmassy, but it probably rings a bell with the homeless guys trying to keep warm by Oriente Metro station, and after all isn’t that what it’s all about. A manger is not a bed of roses, and Jesus did not have much better throughout his life.
No comments:
Post a Comment