Two rock ballads, unusual fare for the Hall, both employing grey November skies and rains to talk about death. The first one was about a woman who killed herself because she contracted HIV, which these days is treatable and may soon be preventable. In her day it was a death sentence. AVI was just talking about that. She was a real woman; her rage at God and suicide both are terrible to remark on these feast days pointed at the dead.
The second one, also from the early 90s, is a power ballad by Guns & Roses with a murky plot in which a young woman marries, dies, and is mourned over the course of a lengthy guitar piece.
It is chilly today, and grey, and rainy. November came in true to form.
6 comments:
Speaking of Guns and Roses, here is a polka cover from Bavaria: The Heimatdamisch: Sweet Child o' Mine (Guns n' Roses). (Did you want a polka cover from Dublin?)
I was past the age of following pop hits when Guns and Roses hit the scene, so I know that Heimatdamisch's rendition was, if not my first exposure to Child of Mine, the first version from which I learned the song.
Growing up in New England, I thought polka was old hat, but Tejano music and Wierd Al gave me a different perspective on polka.
Man, hadn't heard Concrete Blonde in a long time. Checked for the CD that I knew I had, but that must have been one in a batch that got stolen from my studio desk in architecture school and not replaced later. That was a great disc as I recall. It's a profound look at doubt, that song. While I've not shared it much, I understand it, which is strange, I suppose.
Yes, Gringo, it turns out the whole oompah thing got a new life in Latin America after WWII. It's usually considered impolite to speculate as to why along the lines of Basil Fawlty.
Douglas, I saw Concrete Blonde live a couple of times back in the early 1990s. The one stanza of that song where you could rely upon a certain part of the audience singing along was the one that was angry at religion. I find it tragic more even than sad; more so when I reflect that an anger against priests specifically has an unimpeachable justification.
Probably it was always too much to demand purity from any human being, let alone a whole class of them; but the corruption of what was meant to be pure has had terrible consequences.
Yes, Gringo, it turns out the whole oompah thing got a new life in Latin America after WWII. It's usually considered impolite to speculate as to why along the lines of Basil Fawlty.
Good one!
As it was a joke, I will refrain from a didactic discourse on oompah/polka/accordion/bandoneon from South of the Border.
Bolivia had a fair number of German immigrants well before WW2 . Part of their legacy is Paceña beer, the best beer I have had in Latin America. German Mennonites were among the immigrants--also in Paraguay.
I recall a conversation in the Santa Cruz airport with a German visiting relatives in Bolivia. I didn't speak German beyond a few phrases like "Ich habe..," and she had a similar command of Spanish and English, so our conversation was rather short.
I am not surprised. The devil's target selection process is very effective, alas.
Post a Comment