Always nice to remember the poet who showed me the way when all doors were closed…
-James Douglas Morrison
They say heat rises
I rise in the light. The fire outright.
I burn in your hand. Can you stand it?
In love and in fear—Can you hear my demands?
I’m calling the rain to put me out.
I’m cold in the same way. I’m told it’s a game we’re supposed play.
I’m old in the blue today.
I sold my heart to a bird of prey that flew away and turned into Sun…
And burned into One.
Listen to Jack’s vocal dance as he reads about The History of Bop.
“Thelonious, he was so weird, he wandered the twilight streets of Harlem in winter with no hat on his hair—sweating, blowing fog. In his head, he heard it all ringing. Often he heard whole choruses by Lester or Bird or Dizzy or Bags…”
Lyrics by Robert Hunter, Music by Jerry Garcia
Just a song of Gomorrah
I wonder what they did there
Must have been a bad thing
to get shot down for
I wonder how they blew it up
or if they tore it down
Get out, get out, Mr Lot
and don’t you look around
Who gave you your orders?
Someone from the sky
I heard a voice inside my head
in the desert wind so dry
I heard a voice telling me to flee
The very same voice I always believe
Said: a lot of trouble coming
but it don’t have to come to you
I’m sparing you so you can tell
the rest what you been through
But don’t you turn around, no
Don’t look after you
It’s not your business how it’s done
You’re lucky to get through
You’re a good upstanding man
A credit to the flock
But if you don’t face straight ahead
You could not stand the shock
Blew the city off the map
Left nothing there but fire
The wife of Lot got turned to salt
because she looked behind her
Because she looked behind
Because she looked behind
Just because I was curious, I decided to look further into the lyrics of John Perry Barlow, as I’d noticed a theme of darkness—either literally or figuratively—that manifests when he writes about women and love. In short, he’s a passionate dude and I like it. I’ll examine his astrology chart (along with Bob Weir’s—both Librans) at some point as well. Here are some excerpts that I found. Someone was kind enough to create a search function that puts all (or most of) his lyrics in one place.
She comes from a town where they call her the woodcutter’s daughter
She’s brown as the bank where she kneels down to gather her water
Ah, Mother American Night, I’m lost from the light
Oh I’m drowning in you
The last time I saw the devil
She was smiling as she waved
She was taller than the Sutra tower
Staring down into my grave
Don’t leave me darkness, she is no lover
She hides the day
Now miss sweet little soft-core pretender,
Somehow baby got hard as it gets.
With her black leather chrome spiked suspenders,
Her chair and her whip and her pets.
Well we know you’re the reincarnation
Of the ravenous Catherine the Great.
And we know how you love your ovations
For the Z-rated scenes you create.
The Z-rated scenes you create.
I need a woman ’bout twice my height
Statuesque, raven-tressed, a goddess of the night
A secret incantation, candle burning blue
We’ll consult the spirits, maybe they’ll know what to do
She said her name was Billie Jean and she was fresh in town
I didn’t know her stage-line ran from hell
She had raven hair, a ruffled dress, a necklace made of gold
More Barlow songs here: http://www3.clearlight.com/cgi-bin/cgiwrap/~acsa/findbarl.pl
The truth of love an unsung song must tell.
The course of love must follow blind,
Without a look behind.
– Reuben and Cerise, Lyrics by Robert Hunter, Music by Jerry Garcia
So, during Splintered’s set break at Abbey Bar, I met an interesting Iranian fellow and we were just blabbing away about the Grateful Dead—how we discovered it, songs we love, how apparently Jerry Garcia resembles Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (this guy was dropping some serious knowledge), I told him I sang with Pure Jerry, etc.—and then it happened…
While I was describing the critical, cryptical moment that turned me onto the Grateful Dead and subsequently changed my life, he immediately knew, and sang perfectly, the magical guitar riff from the 2-11-69 Fillmore East show.
And I just lost my shit and screamed and jumped up and down. And then we both lost our shit and jumped up and down again during the Splintered second set when we heard “The Wheel”. And we just jumped up and down screaming, “THE WHEEL!”
I remember the first time I heard the song “Estimated Prophet” though I didn’t know the name of the song. My friend, Renee, would always talk about a song called “Estimated Prophet” and how she never got to hear it enough when we went to shows. And then finally—at either a Bob Weir & Ratdog or Furthur or Splintered Sunlight tribute show, I heard that song and we danced like crazy. And after the show, I said to Renee:
“You know, I really like that reggae-type song. The one that’s like, ‘Don’t worry ’bout me, no.’ And she goes, ‘THAT’S ESTIMATED PROPHET!’ And I was all, ‘Oh my god, we love the same song!'”
The music that I dance and go crazy to was written and played by this man: