Tears in Heaven

When I was in my teens, I took guitar lessons, and one day, while I was taking a lesson, I asked the teacher if he could show me how to play "Tears in Heaven." He said he could and immediately taught me how to play the opening riff. The riff wasn't that hard and playing it, even sometimes imperfectly, was very rewarding because what I was producing sounded very similar to what was on the record. Then came the verse, which was a little more difficult because Eric Clapton plays several fills. However, to motivate me, my teacher said, "Sure, we don't need to play these fills—they are tricky and the song would still sound great without them—but if Eric Clapton can play them, I like to think we can too.'"

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

I was in the locker room at the pool today, about to go swimming, and next to me was a guy who had just finished changing back into his street clothes. I took note of him because he was singing to himself. He was singing Elton John's "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road." It was kinda nice listening to him, but when he got to the chorus, here's how he sang it: 

"So goodbye Yellow Brick Road/Where the da da da da da da da. Ya can't bah bah da da da house/ I'm da da da da da." 

It made complete sense to me that this man didn't know all the lyrics. I mean, have you ever heard "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road"? The chorus is super hard to make out. However, because I really like the song, I know the text by heart. 

Anyway, after I heard how this guy sang the chorus, I kept going back and forth with myself: "Should I tell him the lyrics? Should I just keep my mouth shut?" 

By now, he was looking at his phone, so I thought maybe the moment had passed. But then for some reason, I thought, "Nah, fuck it," so I turned to him and said, "Do you know what the lyrics actually are?" He looked up at me and smiled, and before I let him say anything else, I said, "So goodbye Yellow Brick Road/Where the dogs of society howl." 

He kinda of stopped me there and said, "What exactly is it? 'Growl'"? I shook my head and said: "Where the dogs of society howl." I then continued: "You can't plant me in your penthouse/I'm going back to my plough." 

"My what?" he said. "I didn't get that."

"My plough, like a farmer." 

He caught on immediately, "Ah,  my plough...like going back to the roots."

"Exactly," I said.

In the end, I was glad I said something. 

Branding

One pack of Bicycle Playing Cards costs $3.54. 

One pack of Bicycle Playing Cards with a Star Wars theme costs $12.92. 

The eye-popping discrepancy underscores the power of branding. There is basically no difference between the plain Bicycle Playing Cards and the pack with the Star Wars theme. 

Branding really bypasses logic. 

Just think about: The Star Wars cards cost nearly four times more what the plain cards cost. Imagine paying $30,000 for a gray Honda Civic versus paying $120,000 for that same Civic because it had a cool color.

Playing with Matches

Once when I was 11-years-old I went over to the house of a boy I knew from school. I remember that we went up to his room, and once we were there, I began playing with matches that he had. I was lighting a few and then quickly putting them out. I guess his mom was in the hallway and somehow smelled the smoke through the door. She stormed in and asked us what the hell we were doing. The boy just pointed at me, essentially saying, He did it.  

I decided in that moment that I would never play with that boy again. I would never be his friend.

Enjambment

There's a nice use of enjambment in Phil Collin's song "Against All Odds." 

verse

How can I just let you walk away?

Just let you leave without a trace?

When I stand here taking every breath, with you, ooh

You′re the only one who really knew me at all

How can you just walk away from me

When all I can do is watch you leave?

'Cause we′ve shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears

You're the only one who really knew me at all

chorus

So take a look at me now

Oh, there's just an empty space

And there′s nothing left here to remind me

Just the memory of your face

Ooh, take a look at me now

Well, there′s just an empty space

And you coming back to me is against the odds

And that's what I′ve got to face

verse

I wish, I could just make you turn around

Turn around and see me cry

There's so much I need to say to you, so many reasons why

You′re the only one who really knew me at all

chorus

So take a look at me now

Well, there's just an empty space

And there′s nothin' left here to remind me

Just the memory of your face

Now take a look at me now

'Cause there′s just an empty space

But to wait for you, is all I can do

And that′s what I've gotta face

Take a good look at me now

′Cause I'll still be standing here

And you coming back to me is against all odds

It′s the chance I've gotta take

outro

Take a look at me now 

"1979"

You know, it’s incredible how music works. 

Sometimes we’re really focused on the music; sometimes, the lyrics. Usually, the music takes precedence over the lyrics. If the tune is good, we’ll then look more deeply at the words.

Sometimes we like the tune so much that we really don’t care about the lyrics. Such was the case for the longest time with me with the song “1979” by the Smashing Pumpkins. “1979” begins with an interesting percussion-y type build up, then totally bursts into this driving force of a tune based on a catchy guitar riff and playful voice echo type thing. It just sounds awesome, so I didn’t need to know too much more. Plus, I totally understood the first few lyrics: 

“Shakedown 1979/Cool kids never have the time.”

For years, I was more or less in the dark when it came to much of the rest of “1979”’s lyrics. But finally—finally—after years, I decided to check them out.  

I was totally blown away. 

“1979” is not even a song, I discovered: it’s a poem. There were so many lines that I had gotten so wrong for so many years—so many wildly creative lines. 

Here are the lyrics to “1979.” I waited decades before reading them. But you shouldn’t delay. I think that knowing the lyrics will surely help enhance your appreciation of this strange song/poem. 

Shakedown 1979 
Cool kids never have the time
On a live wire right up off the street
You and I should meet

Junebug skippin' like a stone

With the headlights pointed at the dawn

We were sure we'd never see an end to it all

And I don't even care

To shake these zipper blues

And we don't know

Just where our bones will rest

To dust I guess

Forgotten and absorbed into the earth

Below

Double-cross the vacant and the bored

They're not sure just what we have in store

Morphine city slippin' dues, down to see

That we don't even care

As restless as we are

We feel the pull

In the land of a thousand guilts

And poured cement

Lamented and assured

To the lights and towns below

Faster than the speed of sound

Faster than we thought we'd go

Beneath the sound of hope

Justine never knew the rules

Hung down with the freaks and ghouls

No apologies ever need be made

I know you better than you fake it, to see

That we don't even care

To shake these zipper blues

And we don't know

Just where our bones will rest

To dust I guess

Forgotten and absorbed into the earth

Below

The street heats the urgency of now

As you see there's no one around

###

The Knife

So last year I was in Paris with my mom, and I told her one afternoon that I wanted to go to the Louvre. She didn't want to go, and after she set out to do whatever she did that day, I went to our hotel's concierge to ask if they could book me a ticket for the museum. I learned that this is how many people book tickets to things in Paris, as it saves time. The woman behind the concierge desk phoned the Louvre and was told that the museum had no more regular entry tickets, but they did have tickets for a private guided tour. I asked how much a ticket for a private tour was and was told it was €75. This price was obviously too high, considering I was expecting to pay about €20 for a regular ticket. I told the concierge lady to say no, and she did. 

Now with my plans dashed, I went over to a sitting area in the lobby to research what I could do for the day. About 10 minutes into my being there, the woman from the concierge came over to me and said that the museum had called back and said they'd found a normal entry ticket. I immediately said I would like it, and it was booked. 

About 45 minutes later, I was at the Louvre. I was indeed able to save time by not standing in the ticket line, but I did have to wait to go through security. When it was my turn to put my backpack through the X-ray machine and walk through the metal detectors, I did so patiently and dutifully, just like everyone else. However, when I went to reclaim my bag, the security guard said, "The knife." At first, I was completely confused: What's he talking about? What knife? Then I realized: my Swiss army knife. I always keep a Swiss army knife in my bag, just in case. I immediately apologized, took out the knife and gave it to him for safekeeping. 

About two hours later, when I was finished with the museum and about to leave, I realized that this guy still had my knife. On my way to pick it up from him, I had to laugh. This knife had been through a lot. See, I once erroneously tried bringing this very same Swiss army knife on a plane with me. However, security at Newark Airport told me this wouldn't be possible. So what I did was I took the knife, went outside the airport and hid it by an employee smoking area. After I came back from my trip—and this was a one-week trip—I got in my car and was about to leave when I remembered that I had hidden the knife. I remember thinking, "Oh, forget it; it's probably not there." But then, another little voice came into my head and said, "Oh, come on, Chad, you took the time to hide it. Go check. It might be there." And it was. 

Anyway, back in the Louvre, the security guard gave me back my knife after I gave him a stub of paper that he had given me after he took the instrument into safekeeping. I thanked him graciously, and that was that.