66. THE LATE SHOW & HOW LONG? – Jackson Browne



I’m putting these two songs together –perhaps over-ambitiously? –and I’m not sure if I can convey what I want, but somehow I want to suggest that the gap between these two songs is a story in itself, from the introspective angst which characterises (and caricatures) too much of the early 1970s singer songwriter material, to something more outward looking, observational, politically and socially engaged [Note: this is one of the reasons why Dylan was outside of his time – the chronology of his own development is quite different.]

When Jackson Browne’s ‘Late For The Sky’ album was released, I was just ripe for its musings and expressions, particularly for the emotings and the confident pseudo psychological declaratives of the final song ‘The Late Show’…’ Seems like people only ask you how you’re doing/ ‘Cause that’s easier than letting on how little they could care..’ This kind of rawness, this naked facing up to the need-for-meaningful-love at the core of our beings , was exactly where I was at, there in the early 1970s.  And even while I’m writing this, I’m recognizing a chicken-and-egg conundrum: did the Californian songsmith’s navel gazing emoting actually engender my perspective, or simply correspond?  Remember that I was late adolescent burgeoning into early adulthood: first romance (Margaret); equally in love (or was this the fault of DH Lawrence?) with the idea of friendships.  So the song resonated and resonated.  And either way, I recognise this as both the internal and external mood of the time.  I remember singing a snatch of the song at home one evening –could possibly have been the lines already quoted –and my mother saying ‘Oh?  Do you think that’s true?’ Or something equally unexpected.  It led to a brief, interesting but slightly awkward conversation where I affirmed my commitment to be real, to talk about real feelings.  I think I might even have said that my experience of God’s love meant that I felt ‘reconciled to the world, and the universe, and myself’.  Something of that nature. (!!)

The song continued in that vein, arguing (it did argue, I think) for emotional honesty – ‘to see things clear, is hard enough I know…/Without dressing them in dreams and laughter/I guess it’s just too painful otherwise..’ and encouraging us to probe beyond surfaces and to recognise the rawest of human emotional needs – ‘you could be with somebody who is lonely too/ He might be trying to get across to you..’

The disturbing thing is that some of my own songs may still be ploughing this same particular furrow. Yikes.  Take my song ‘Discover Me’ which urges the same kind of awareness (‘perhaps it’s like the one about Not waving here but Drowning’).  But despite that, listening back and thinking back, I recognise, as JB himself must have, that there are limits to this heavy emotional dissection.  It simply calls for a ‘breaking out’ to less-internal preoccupations; and it is a refreshment, relief and reinvigoration when this is reflected in the song-output.

I’m choosing ‘How Long?’ From the ‘World In Motion’ album as the other contrasting bookend.  I found the album in a shopping mall in Asuncion in 1991, though I think it may have been released quite a few years by then.  This wasn’t by any means the beginning of Browne’s more outwardly looking songs –even back in the mid 1980s, when Sue, Kev and I had gone to see him in Hammersmith Odeon, he was promoting his ‘Lives In The Balance’ album full of eloquent criticism of America’s foreign policy, and of awareness of its effects globally. That very title track in itself was a most arresting wake-up call.

The World In Motion album follows in the same vein –but the ‘How Long?’ track really got to me –because it seemed more than just mere polemic; it also employed the controlled emotive focus which song is so good at, of course (* see below) –to help promote and clarify that same anti militaristic perspective.  And so it alternates political statement (‘How long will they tell us these weapons are keeping us free?/It’s a lie..’) with more blatant emotive appeal (‘how long/can you hear someone crying..?).  *And OK, what needs to be debated of course, is whether all this is just political naivety; it could even be argued that the subtle complexities of political and militaristic pragmatism cannot adequately be addressed within the vehicle of song, which perhaps by  very nature tends towards simplifications and polarisations.  Today, I’m particularly aware that ‘emotive’ arguments can be easily abused – hearing Donald Trump crassly justifying his own recent air strike on a Syrian military target, with a suspiciously sudden newfound concern for the ‘poor little innocent Syrian babies and beautiful children’ who had not seemed on the radar of his compassion any time previously.  I’m not comfortable thinking that Browne and Trump might be using the same kind of manipulative technique , and I almost wish I hadn’t started this bit. Still, of the two, I know who the more articulate one is, and who I trust more.

Be that as it may, I still find this a powerful song –one of those rare ones that did make me cry; and it’s a song I have used in school assemblies – I constructed my first ever power point presentation with this song –and, with its sense of purpose and ‘protest’, I suppose it’s the kind of song I wish I had written more of, and perhaps had paid more heed to, and had celebrated more.

See what I mean?  In these two songs, a whole history….


21. DEPORTEE by Woody Guthrie and FISHING by Richard Shindell

It must be the current migrant crisis in Europe that has brought these two songs back into my mind over the last few days. Though yes of course I know that it’s not exactly the same: there is a difference between USA’s handling of ‘illegal’ Central American immigrants, and Western European’s response to the families fleeing (particularly) Syria in recent months, seeking asylum, refuge, hopeful new beginnings. Perhaps the connection between that situation and these songs is the way these songs identify the distrust and dehumanisation of suffering individuals, and that even convenient labels employed in media reportage can start to erode necessary compassion.

While not totally overriding the complexity of the issue, Guthrie’s song hints boldly at his country’s institutional doublemindedness about Central Americans aching for more secure and prosperous lives north of the Mexican border  – i.e. tolerated when they are economically useful eg to bring in huge fruit harvests at minimal expense; shunted back speedily when that seasonal usefulness is over. The particular shunting flight which occasioned this song never made it – hence the subtitle ‘Plane Wreck over Los Gatos’. The key line which reflects (what he sees as) this callous dehumanizing process of the kind of media coverage discouraging imaginative empathy is the final line, slightly changing each time, of the chorus .. ‘The radio says they are just deportees’. Similarly in the last few weeks I note that people have used social media to challenge British newscoverage-speak and politician-speak  resorting to the kind of politically technical terminology – when referring to the tragedies of even the youngest individuals from these migration stories- likely to distance us from true fellow feeling . ‘The word you’re searching for, Mr Cameron’(or whoever, I can’t quite recall now), said one posting,’is simply children!’.

Both these songs are more than mere polemic: they invite us to enter the human situations of those making these perilous journeys: in Guthrie’s case we enter into a sense of loss not just for those who are bereaved by the tragedy (‘Gooodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita..’), but also that their very treatment seems to have deprived them of dignity and identity  – ‘You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane/ All they will call you will be..deportees’. Shindell’s song is a masterfully imaginative composition, a largely one-sided dialogue featuring a Latin American ‘illegal’ being interviewed by an immigration officer, with a series of racial slurs (‘I bet you Indians can really reel them in..’), threats (‘We know just where [your next of kin] is hiding’), taunting half-promises, quickfire interrogation questions, brutal confrontations (‘good citizen or poor campesino?’) as pressure is applied to give information about more illegals. The extended metaphor throughout is of fishing – the officer, particularly, trying to ‘catch’ the worker out by guile and coercion – both the metaphor and the manner add to the dehumanization that is taking place.

Apparently (Shindell says in concert introductions to this song) he originally wrote it as this monologue, without the worker’s riposte in the final verse: this man is the literal fisherman who has been forced to flee his land of origin. I’m glad he gets a voice in this coda.There is a beautiful contrasting dignity in his response, in his unwillingness to play cynical pay-off games, in his resignation at returning to a land where, despite its presumable danger and poverty, he has a profession, and – in the final image of the fish – there is a paradoxical freedom and ‘wealth’ – ‘They’re waiting there for me/ Running deep’.

Shindell is a terrific troubadour, and my brief sketch of the lyric gives no real reflection of the power of this as a whole, sung song. Joan Baez covers this song well, but for grit and passion, hear the original. Guthrie’s song has been covered many many times (and you won’t be surprised by now if I say that Judy Collins’s version was the first I heard – her cover is both controlled and moving) but – interestingly – Shindell too has recorded it on his lovely covers album ‘South of Delia’. I’m not real sure I’ve heard a bad version – it’s such a solidly good verse and chorus standard of a song.

The best of art, the best of songs, should lead us to enter into and appreciate others’ humanity; these two songs certainly do that. And whatever political and economic solutions and compromises have to be forged between nations and (within nations) by local authorities and communities in the coming months, these don’t negate the necessity for compassion, and anything that encourages compassionate responses is worth listening to intelligently.