And now it’s summer. And here I feel like a regular blackguard and a heretic too, having “ripped” out the first half of an artist’s song to get to what, in my opinion, is the far better second half.  Ah yes, right at the point where, with a pffffttttt, he opens a beer and takes a satisfying gulp…

Born in Orillia, Ontario in 1938, with hundreds of recordings released over a career that has spanned five decades, Gordon Meredith Lightfoot, Jr. has been called a Canadian National Treasure by no less a Canadian treasure himself than Robbie Robertson. Then there’s Bob Dylan, who refers to him as one of his favorite songwriters, further noting that when he hears a Lightfoot song he often wishes that it would last forever.

So who am I to question the artistic vision of such a man when it comes to the final track of his seventh album, 1971’s “Summer Side of Life”?  Entitled “Cabaret” it starts out with a lilting (some may say tedious) dewy-eyed reminiscence about the sea and the sky and “sounds of laughter on ladies gay….” Sorry but riiiiiiip…because at 2:53, when you’re about to drift away that initial song, which really must have started life as a different track, evolves into the highly resonating account of a drifter (so maybe that’s it) on the road.

And here we are, huddled in some west coast roadside diner while the big rigs roll by. Anyone who has spent a few days “cold on the shoulder” will immediately identify.  Then comes the chorus, which always makes me think of my wife, Linda (now decades ago), back in Toronto when she was roundly pregnant with our first-born.

My job would regularly have me venturing to Ottawa or Hamilton or maybe to Winnipeg, all within 150 kilometers of the great southern border (which is where four-fifths of the Canadian population resides).  But in the icy vortex of January, Linda’s company would send her to the wilds (and I mean that) of Timmins on the frozen Mattagami, or to Kapuskasing, where GM operates its “Cold Weather Development Center.”

Well into her third trimester, well before mobile GPS devices or practical cell phones for that matter, she’d fly through the frigid northern darkness, rent a Jeep Cherokee at the air field and drive for an hour and a half down a plowed but barren highway, and then…according to the desultory directions she’d received…”take a left.”

It’s summer time now, but this song transports me back to a tiny Beaches (neighbourhood) apartment, when on more than one cold, dark winter’s evening I’d sit close to the telephone on the kitchen wall and await my wife’s call, thinking all along how much…”I’d like to tell her that I miss her so, in North Ontario.”

 LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Thursday 21 June

From the coast of California

Up to the Oregon border

I’ve thumbed a thousand miles I guess

Sitting in a roadside diner

The big trucks rollin’ by

I don’t seem to know at times what’s best

And still I’d like to tell her

That I miss her so

In North Ontario

 If you’re drivin’ east to Reno

Or north to Mendocino

I hope you find your rainbow’s end

This highway is my rainbow

And though I might regret it

I’m so glad I said it way back when.

Ever have one of those days that starts out on an even keel, but continuously picks up tumult so that, for reasons out of your control, you’re feeling downright harried by day’s end?  Well that explains the brevity of this write-up along with the mellow nature of today’s selection performed by “Mr. Acker Bilk” …yes, that’s exactly what was on the record label.

A bowler-wearing clarinetist, also known for his goatee and striped-waistcoat, he was born Bernard Stanley Bilk in Somerset, England in 1929.  “Acker” is local slang for “mate” (as in friend), ‘though it must have been a hard earned appellation as he lost his two front teeth in a school fight that forever-after affected his jazz clarinet style.

Although he had a number of light jazz recording hits in the UK, Bilk was far from an international star when he wrote today’s selection for his newborn daughter, Jennifer (and initially named it for her) in 1961.  When a BBC television producer happened to hear the song he asked Bilk for permission to use it as the theme song for a new television series, called, “Stranger on the Shore”

Wise choice, “Stranger on the Shore” as the song itself was soon called, was the biggest selling UK single of 1962, becoming the first British recording to reach Number One on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100.

In May of 1969 it accompanied the crew of Apollo 10 in lunar orbit, as lunar module pilot, Gene Cernan selected it as one of his choices on a cassette tape used in the spacecraft’s command module.  “To the moon, Acker…to the moon.”

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Wednesday 19 June

The phenomenon began in London’s East End somewhere around 1840, either through the criminal element, as a means of excluding the “coppers” from pertinent communication, or (more likely) in the marketplace where traders could talk amongst themselves without their customers knowing what they were saying. After a while it simply became a way of speaking.

Cockney rhyming slang (CRS) involves the replacement of a common word with a word that rhymes with it, as found at the end of a short phrase.  One then utilizes the beginning of the phrase and omits the rhyming word.  For example:

Wife, (famously) rhymes with “Trouble and Strife,” and so: “Bloody ‘ell, the trouble’s been shopping again.”

Money, rhymes with “Bees and Honey,” as in: “Hand over the bees, mate.”

Head, rhymes with “Crust of Bread,” as in: “Use your crust, lad.”

Legs, rhymes with “Bacon and Eggs,” and so: “Cor, look at the long bacons on that one!”

Feet, rhymes with “Plates of Meat,” so you get: “It nearly knocked me off me plates.”

Coat, rhymes with “Weasel and Stoat,” as in: “Oy, where’s me weasel?”

Eyes, rhymes with “Mince Pies,” and Telephone rhymes with “Dog and Bone,” and so you get: “So I got straight on the dog to me trouble and told ‘er I couldn’t believe me minces.”

One of the wonderful things about CRS, and indeed language in general, is that it is ever-evolving and had you been wandering around the East End a decade or two ago you might have heard someone say, “So we was in the middle of a Leo and…” which was to say they were in the middle of an “all-dayer” (an all day drinking session), as derived from the once highly-popular “Leo Sayer.”

Born in Shoreham-by-Sea, on England’s south coast in 1948, and far from a Cockney himself (as a matter of fact he’s now a naturalized Australian citizen), Leo Sayer had seven Top 10 UK Singles in a row back in the 1970s. The streak began with “Giving it All Away,” a song that he gave to Roger Daltrey, who had his first hit, without The Who, with it in 1973 on his solo album, “Daltrey”.  

Actually, the then-unknown Sayer wrote or co-wrote ten of the album’s eleven tracks, not releasing his own debut album, “Silverbird” until later that year.  Today’s selection was his first hit as a recording artist, peaking at Number 2 on the UK Charts. In the U.S. “The Show Must Go On” was covered by (that “cover machine”) Three Dog Night, peaking at Number 4 on the Billboard Charts.

Three Dog Night had changed the last line of the chorus from “I won’t let the show go on” to “I must let the show go on,” which apparently upset Sayer who had invested a great deal of artistic energy in the (metaphorical) circus-themed song, even performing it dressed as Pierrot the clown.

Although Three Dog Night altered the song’s meaning, they did at least wear (American) clown makeup and, like the original, began their version with a brief rendition of Fucik’s “Entrance of the Gladiators”.  Still, it’s hard to imagine anyone performing it with quite the nuance…and urgency…of the scat singing Leo Sayer.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Tuesday 19 June

And be sure to “take a butchers” for yourself

(you know, take a look, as in “Butcher’s Hook”…)

The Show Must Go On

Baby, although I chose this lonely life

It seems it’s strangling me now

All the wild men with big cigars and gigantic cars

They’re all laughing at me now

Oh I’ve been used…used…

I’ve been a fool…oh what a fool

I broke all the rules…yeah

But I won’t let the show go on.

Baby, there’s an enormous crowd of people

And they’re all after my blood

I wish maybe they’d tear down the walls of this theater

And let me out…let me out

Oh, I’ve been so blind…yeah

I’ve wasted time, wasted, wasted oh so much time

Walking on the wire, high wire, yeah

But I won’t let the show go on.

 I’ve been so blind, oh yes, I’ve been so blind

Wasted my time, wasted so much time

Walking on the wire, high wire, yeah

But I won’t let the show go on.

Baby, I wish you’d help me escape

And help me get away

Leave me outside my address

Far away from this masquerade

I’ve been so blind, oh yes, I’ve been so blind

Wasted my time, wasted so much time

Walking on the wire, high wire, yeah

But I won’t let the show go on.

Those who have cited her as a major influence include: Joni Mitchell, Rickie Lee Jones, Elvis Costello, Cyndi Lauper, Steely Dan and Melissa Manchester.  Todd Rundgren affirms that after listening to her, he stopped “writing songs like The Who and started writing songs like Laura,” while Elton John (whose song “Burn Down the Mission” was written with her style in mind) confessed that he “idolized her…the soul, the passion, just the out and out audacity of the way her rhythmic and melody changes came was like nothing I’d heard before.”

Born Laura Nigro in 1947 in the Bronx, New York, the daughter of Gilda, a bookkeeper, and Louis, a piano tuner and jazz trumpeter. As a child, she taught herself piano and composed her first songs at age eight. As a teenager she sang with friends in subway stations and on street corners and attended Manhattan’s High School of Music and Art.  She also began to experiment with a stage name, finally settling on Laura Nyro.

At the age of 17 Laura Nyro sold her first song (which happens to be today’s selection), for $5,000, to Peter, Paul and Mary.  A record deal followed and her debut album, “More Than a New Discovery” was recorded in 1966.  Although not a huge success for Nyro, many of the album’s songs became hits for other artists, including “Wedding Bell Blues” topping the charts for The 5^th Dimension, “Stoney End” (reaching Number 6 on the charts) for Barbra Streisand and (once again), today’s selection, this time for Blood Sweat & Tears, who peaked at Number 2 on the Billboard Charts with the song.

It’s fascinating to note that Nyro had actually considered becoming lead singer for Blood, Sweat & Tears after Al Kooper left the group, but was dissuaded by her manager. Instead she went on to produce her “break-through” second album in 1968, “Eli and the Thirteenth Confession,” which like its predecessor, also furnished hit covers by other artists, including “Eli’s Coming” for Three Dog Night; and “Stoned Soul Picnic” and “Sweet Blindness” both for The 5^th Dimension, who must have thanked their lucky stars for her very existence.

But the streak began with the song Nyro first sold to Peter, Paul and Mary.  You’ve heard it performed by others and I ask you…now, just a few years shy of a half-century since it was written, whose version would you want played at your funeral?

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Monday 18 June 

And When I Die

 And when I die

And when I’m dead, dead and gone

There’ll be one child born

And a world to carry on

 To carry on

 I’m not scared of dyin’

And I don’t really care

If it’s peace you find in dyin’

Well then let the time be near

If it’s peace you find in dyin’

When dyin’ time is here

Just bundle up my coffin

Cause its cold way down there

I hear that it’s cold way down there

Yeah, crazy cold way down there

 And when I die

And when I’m gone

There’ll be one child born

And a world to carry on

My troubles are many

They’re as deep as a well

I can swear there ain’t no heaven

But I pray there ain’t no hell

Swear there ain’t no heaven

And pray there ain’t no hell

But I’ll never know by livin’

But only my dyin’ will tell

Yeah, only my dyin’ will tell

 And when I die

And when I’m gone

There’ll be one child born

And a world to carry on

to carry on

Give me my freedom

For as long as I be

All I ask of livin’

Is to have no chains on me

All I ask of livin’

Is to have no chains on me

And all I ask of dyin’

Is to go naturally

Only want to go naturally

Don’t want to go by the Devil

Don’t want to go by the Demon

Don’t want to go by Satan

Don’t want to die uneasy

Just let me go naturally

And when I die

And when I’m gone

There’ll be one child born

There’ll be one child born

When I die

There’ll be one child born

When I die

There’ll be one child born

When I die

There’ll be one child born

When I die

There’ll be one child born

When I die…

Although it is accompanied by far fewer greeting cards and phone calls than it’s counterpart, Mother’s Day (which has been observed for well over a full century), Father’s Day is now celebrated on this, the third Sunday in June, in numerous countries throughout the world.

In the United States the driving force behind its recognition was Sonora Smart Dodd of Spokane, Washington, whose Civil War veteran father had raised six children as a single parent.  Because of Dodd’s incessant campaigning, the first Father’s Day was commemorated in Spokane in 1910.

In 1916 President Woodrow Wilson traveled to Spokane and proposed that Father’s Day become a national holiday, but Congress was opposed to the idea.  In 1924, President Calvin Coolidge made a similar proposal and he too was rebuffed by Congress.  Actually it wasn’t until 1966, when President Lyndon Johnson issued a presidential proclamation to honor fathers, that this day was designated as Father’s Day, and it wan’t until 1972, when President Richard Nixon signed it into law, that it actually became a permanent national holiday.

Today’s selection was written and performed by Dan Fogelberg, less than a decade after that presidential signing, to honor his own father, Lawrence, who’d long served as director of Peoria’s Woodruff High School Band and who died soon after its release.  Featured on his 1981 (and seventh) album, “The Innocent Age,” which itself was inspired by Thomas Wolfe’s 1935 poignant novel “Of Time and The River,” the song was Fogelberg’s second single (after “Longer”) to reach Number One the U.S. Billboard Charts.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Father’s Day 17 June

The Leader of the Band

An only child alone and wild

A cabinetmaker’s son

His hands were meant for different work

And his heart was known to none

He left his home and went his lone

And solitary way

And he gave to me a gift I know

 I never can repay

A quiet man of music

Denied a simpler fate

He tried to be a soldier once

But his music wouldn’t wait

He earned his love through discipline

A thundering, velvet hand

His gentle means of sculpting souls

Took me years to understand

The leader of the band is tired

And his eyes are growing old

But his blood runs through my instrument

And his song is in my soul

My life has been a poor attempt

To imitate the man

I’m just a living legacy

To the leader of the band

My brothers’ lives were different

For they heard another call

One went to Chicago

And the other to St. Paul

And I’m in Colorado

When I’m not in some hotel

Living out this life I’ve chose

And come to know so well

I thank you for the music

And your stories of the road

I thank you for the freedom

When it came my time to go

I thank you for the kindness

And the times when you got tough

And, papa, I don’t think

I said, “I love you” near enough

The leader of the band is tired

And his eyes are growing old

But his blood runs through my instrument

And his song is in my soul

My life has been a poor attempt

To imitate the man

I’m just a living legacy

To the leader of the band

I am the living legacy

To the leader of the band

It was a tradition that lasted 60 years.  And then it stopped in 2009.

Every January 19^th (starting in 1949, or so it’s believed) a mysterious visitor, clad in black, his face obscured by a scarf, with a silver tipped cane in his hand, would furtively appear from the early morning shadows in the churchyard of Baltimore’s Westminster Church. He would leave three roses on the original (as opposed to “new”) gravestone of Edgar Allan Poe…then pour himself a glass of Martell cognac, raise a toast and, after leaving the bottle next to the roses, he would vanish back into the darkness.

Despite the presence of a growing crowd of reporters and Poe enthusiasts through the years, the man’s (or more likely father and son’s) identity remains a mystery. According to the curator of the Edgar Allan Poe Society (who bore witness to every visitation from 1976 on) the “Toaster” as he came to be called, was stealthy and specific, always making a “certain” quiet gesture at the grave, always arranging the flowers in a certain, unique pattern.  When impostors (known as “Faux Toasters”) began to appear in the years after 2009, they were immediately recognized as such because:

1. They arrived in full sight of those waiting to observe the spectacle,
2. They didn’t used the “Toaster’s” specific gestures at the grave,
3. They didn’t follow the precise pattern of the Toaster’s flower arrangement .

And of course there has been a great deal of “expert” interpretation throughout it all. The year 1949 is noteworthy as it marked the 100^th anniversary of Poe’s perplexing death in 1849.  While January 19^th is Poe’s birthday, and January 19^th,  2009 marked his 200^th birthday.

Which just goes to show the eternal effects of tortured genius. Certainly in his short, rather difficult life, Poe was all that.  He was also la literary pioneer in multiple fiction genres, including: Mystery, Macabre (yes), Detective Fiction and Science Fiction. And he was a well-respected literary critic.

Then there was Poetry, the “aesthetic art of literary language.”   Regardless of the opinions of those (sometimes pompous) Transcendentalists, who derisively referred to him as the “Jingle Man”  (…but then, he didn’t much like them either), Edgar Allan Poe was a masterful poet who adhered to strict mathematical reasoning within his work.

Noting that theorists have long used mathematics to understand musical form; he used similar calculated rhythms when employing assonance and alliteration. The world recognizes “The Raven” as a shining example, but here’s another marvel (for which he received $15 in 1848), that wasn’t published until after his death in 1849.

As performed by a truly authentic (and tortured) genius of the next century, the much lamented Phil Ochs, this slightly syncopated musical adaptation of  Poe’s “The Bells” was included on Ochs’ seminal 1964 album, “All the News That’s Fit to Sing”.   

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Saturday 15 June

The Bells

 Hear the sledges with the bells

Silver bells

What a world of merriment

Their melody foretells

How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle

In the icy air of night

All the heavens seem to twinkle

With a crystalline delight

Keeping time, time, time

With a sort of Runic rhyme

From the tintinnabulation

That so musically wells

From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells

 Hear the mellow wedding bells

Golden bells

What a world of happiness

Their harmony foretells

Through the balmy air of night

How they ring out their delight

Through the dances and the yells

And the rapture that impels

How it swells

How it dwells

On the future

How it tells

From the swinging and the ringing of the molten golden bells

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells

Of the rhyming and the chiming of the bells

Hear the loud alarum bells

Brazen bells

What a tale of terror now

Their turbulence tells

Much too horrified to speak

Oh, they can only shriek

For all the ears to know

How the danger ebbs and flows

Leaping higher, higher, higher

With a desperate desire

In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire

With the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells

With the clamor and the clanging of the bells

 Hear the tolling of the bells

Iron bells

What a world of solemn thought their monody compels

For all the sound that floats

From the rust within our throats

And the people sit and groan

In their muffled monotone

And the tolling, tolling, tolling

Feels a glory in the rolling

From the throbbing and the sobbing

Of the melancholy bells

Oh, the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells

Oh, the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

 Hear the sledges with the bells

Silver bells

What a world of merriment

Their melody foretells

How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle

In the icy air of night

All the heavens seem to twinkle

With a crystalline delight

Keeping time, time, time

With a sort of Runic rhyme

From the tintinnabulation

That so musically wells

From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells

Born in 1942 in Malden, Massachusetts, Norman Greenbaum, who attended Hebrew school, was raised in a traditional Jewish household.  He went on to study music at Boston University where he (let’s say it by rote) performed-at-local-coffeehouses, before dropping out and moving to L.A.

In Los Angeles he joined Dr. West’s Medicine Show and Junk Band, with whom he had a novelty hit with the psychedelic, “The Eggplant That Ate Chicago” in 1968.  I don’t remember that one either. The following year, after leaving the Junk Band, he was inspired to write a song that you WILL remember, however, after watching Porter Wagner and Dolly Parton perform on a Sunday morning gospel show.

“I thought, yeah, I can do that,” said Greenbaum, who conceded that he knew nothing about such music, “so I sat down and wrote my own gospel song. It came easy and I wrote it in 15 minutes.”

Released in 1969, “Spirit in the Sky” reached Number Three on the U.S. Billboard charts and hit number one on the UK, Australian and Canadian charts in 1970.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Friday 15 June

Sprit in the Sky

When I die and they lay me to rest

Gonna’ go to the place that’s the best

When I lay me down to die

Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky

Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky

That’s where I’m gonna go when I die

When I die and they lay me to rest

Gonna’ go to the place that’s the best

Prepare yourself you know it’s a must

Gotta have a friend in Jesus

So you know that when you die

He’s gonna recommend you

To the spirit in the sky

Gonna recommend you

To the spirit in the sky

That’s where you’re gonna go when you die

When you die and they lay you to rest

You’re gonna go to the place that’s the best

Never been a sinner I never sinned

I got a friend in Jesus

So you know that when I die

He’s gonna set me up with

The spirit in the sky

Oh set me up with the spirit in the sky

That’s where I’m gonna go when I die

When I die and they lay me to rest

I’m gonna go to the place that’s the best

Go to the place that’s the best

Born in Oneonta, New York in 1942, Ronald Clyde Crosby was rather a wandering sort as a young man.  After enlisting in the National Guard he went AWOL to travel around the country, busking with his ukulele, from New York to Florida, then on to Louisiana, Texas and California.  After switching to the guitar and making his way back east he joined the Greenwich Village folk scene and eventually adopted his stage name, Jerry Jeff Walker.

In the 1968 Jerry Jeff wrote the song that would make him famous and featured it on his seminal album of the same title.  As you’ll hear, it was inspired by an encounter in a New Orleans jail cell in 1965, with an aging street performer who called himself “Mr. Bojangles” to conceal his true identity from the police.

Not to be confused with Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, the famous, black tap dancer of the 1930s, this Mr. Bojangles was actually Caucasian (New Orleans jail cells were segregated at the time) and he and Jerry Jeff and others in the cell chatted for days.  Indeed, when Mr. Bojangles told the story of his dog, the atmosphere apparently dampened until a call came out to lighten the mood, and the old man began to dance…

Numerous cover versions of “Mr. Bojangles” including today’s, are far better known than Walker’s original, particularly that of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, but as with other classic songs, there’s a fascinating array of popular artists who have recorded it, including: Cat Stevens, Harry Belafonte, John Denver, Neil Diamond, Nina Simone, Don McLean, Harry Nilsson, Lulu, Rod McKuen, Frank Sinatra, The Byrds, J.J. Cale, Harry Chapin, Sammy Davis Jr., Bob Dylan, Chet Atkins, Hugues Aufray (in a 1984 French version), Elton John, Frankie Laine, Garth Brooks, Arlo Guthrie, Whitney Houston, Billy Joel, Jim Stafford, and Bebe Neuwirth (remember “Frasier’s” ex-wife?)

A choreographed version of “Mr Bojangles” was also featured in Bob Fosse’s 1978 Broadway show, “Dancin’” and the song is even referenced in Philip Glass’ 1976 minimalist opera, “Einstein On The Beach”.

I’m pleased to say that I saw it performed live by David Bromberg, who had been one of Walker’s band members on the original version, when he shared a concert billing with John Sebastian at Boston College’s Roberts Center in November of 1976.  Bromberg, who grew up in Tarrytown, NY, toured extensively throughout the ‘60s and ‘70s with his Bluegrass, Folk, Blues, Jazz, Country & Western and Rock n’ Roll catalog of covers and originals.

In recent years, he and his wife have concentrated on running a violin sales and repair shop in Wilmington, Delaware and he makes only occasional appearances… like tonight when he’s billed with Loudon Wainwright III at the Somerville Theatre in Davis Square. Today’s selection is a track from Bromberg’s 1972 album, “Demon in Disguise”.  Ask me later if he still remembers all the words.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Thursday 14 June

Mr. Bojangles

I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you

In worn out shoes

With silver hair, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants

The old soft shoe

He jumped so high, he jumped so high

Then he’d lightly touch down

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles

Dance!

I met him in a cell in New Orleans

I was
 down and out

He looked to me to be the eyes of age

As he spoke right out

He talked of life, he talked of life

He laugh-slapped his leg a step

He said the name, Bojangles and he danced a lick

Across the cell

He grabbed his pants, a better stance, he jumped up high

 
He clicked his heels

He let go a laugh, he let go a laugh

Shook back his clothes all around

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles

Dance!

This is really a true story, you know, a lot of people have heard the song, and…

Well, at least, Jerry Jeff tells me it’s a true… true story.

I played guitar with Jerry Jeff Walker for about two years and we…

We did this song every night for two years., and I never got tired of it.

Jerry got a little tired of it — at night, after the clubs would close,

We’d do horrible things to it…

‘Twas a true story, he… this guy, Bojangles,

Was a… he was a street dancer in New Orleans,

And what he’d do, he’d go from bar to bar and…

He’d put money in the jukebox, or get somebody else to do it…

And then he’d either dance or pantomime the tune.

And for that, people would buy him drinks and get him pretty drunk,

And then he’d go on to the next bar, and the next one, until it was closing time…

And then he’d go on, the next night.

After a few nights of this, he’d end up on the corner,

And the cops would pick him up and then take him to the drunktank –

This is where Jerry Jeff met him.

Jerry Jeff wasn’t there on a research project –

I mean, the way I got that story, I may have that wrong,

But the way I got that is that he propositioned the right woman at the right time

And the wrong place — and her husband, the bartender…

Called the cops, and they took Jerry to the… Parish jail.

And he and this guy just talked for three days in the cell about what’ve you got…

He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs

Throughout the South

He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and him

Had traveled about

His dog up and died, he up and died

After 20 years he still grieves

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles

Dance!

He said “I dance now at ev’ry chance in honky-tonks

For drinks and tips

But most of the time I spend behind these county bars

‘Cause ‘I drinks a bit.”

He shook his head, and as he shook his head I heard someone ask

“Please, 
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles

Dance!”

If the occasion is at all formal, then cups and saucers, rather than mugs, ought to be used and the host/hostess should serve, while adhering to the following protocols:

1. Fresh water in the kettle should be brought to a boil.
2. Enough of the boiling water should be swirled within the teapot to warm it, and then poured out.
3. Loose (preferably black) tea leaves should be added, with a level spoonful per cup, and then one for the pot.  Tea bags may be used, if you must.
4. Fresh, boiling water should be poured over the tea leaves and the tea should be allowed to brew for two to five minutes, while a tea cosy is placed over the pot to keep it warm.
5. Be mindful that the tea should not be allowed to over-steep (no more than ten minutes), else it will become “stewed” and bitter to the taste.
6. Milk (not cream) may be added to one’s teacup, with the host/hostess asking the guest if milk is desired.
7. Sugar may also be added to one’s teacup, according to taste.
8. When it’s ready, (unless tea bags are used) a tea strainer should be placed over the top of each teacup while the tea is poured.
9. If tea bags are used, they may be removed from the pot, once the desired strength has been attained.
10. If the pot contains extra tea, then the tea cosy should re-cover the teapot.

If the occasion is, shall we say, more utilitarian, then a bag of Tetley or PG Tips in a mug with lots of milk and sugar (aka “builder’s tea”) and boiling water straight from the kettle is quite all right. And there you have the basics of making English (okay, and Scottish, Welsh and Irish too) tea

The British have been the world’s largest consumers of tea per capita (now averaging 2.5 kilos per year) since the 18^th Century when China tea (“tcha” in Chinese) along with (Central American) chocolate could be found in coffeehouses as alternatives to coffee.  By the 19^th Century shoots from the tea plant had been stealthily “exported” from China to the Indian subcontinent under British control, and while London burgeoned into the center of international tea trade, the beverage itself became the brew of choice for the vast majority of British subjects.

With its ever-increasing popularity teashops, ranging from rudimentary to gracious, spread throughout the Kingdom, as did certain class-based traditions, such as tea parties and tea dances.  Tea also became synonymous with certain meals.

Afternoon tea is a late-afternoon snack meant to hold one over until mid-evening suppertime. For some this might include finger sandwiches or buttered scones. Or it could be a cream tea, referring to the clotted cream that’s spread over the scones along with strawberry jam. Then there’s high tea, usually taken between 5:00 pm and 7:00 pm, which is actually a full meal (as such, “tea” refers to the main evening meal in many parts of the UK), although “high tea” is/was traditionally eaten by upper and upper middle class children, whose parents dined formally later in the evening.

Which brings us to today’s pastoral selection, written and performed by a man who has experienced the full spectrum of class (and presumably tea) society in his 70 years (next Monday) as an Englishman.  Sir James Paul McCartney, MBE is recognized by that towering authority of such matters, “The Guinness Book of World Records” as the most commercially successful songwriter, musician and composer in the history of popular music. Today’s song was featured on his 2005 (and 13^th solo) album, “Chaos and Creation in the Back Yard.”

Personally I envision it being sung by a young boy in the back garden of his home on the outskirts of an English cathedral town…in 1964.  And where is he now?  Secure in the knowledge that he still enjoys his tea, have a look for yourself:

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – 13 June

English Tea

Would you care to sit with me?

For a cup of English tea

Very twee, very me

Any sunny morning

 What a pleasure it would be

Chatting so delightfully

Nanny bakes fairy cakes

Every Sunday morning

 Miles and miles of English garden, stretching past the willow tree

Lines of hollyhocks and roses, listen most attentively

Do you know the game croquet?

An adventure we might play

Very gay, hip hooray

Any sunny morning

 (solo)

 Miles and miles of English garden, stretching past the willow tree

Lines of hollyhocks and roses, listen most attentively

 As a rule the church bells chime

When it’s almost suppertime

Nanny bakes fairy cakes

On a Sunday morning

Born James Chambers in 1948, he is the only living musician to hold the Order of Merit (OM), the highest honor granted by the Jamaican government for Achievement in the Arts and Sciences.

After hearing a neighbor’s sound system as a small boy, he began to write his own songs and while attending trade school in Kingston (where he shared his cousin’s rented room) he became a talent contest regular and would wander in vain from record label to record label, fruitlessly looking for an in. Finally he convinced a local restaurateur to back him and at the age of 14 Jimmy Cliff, as he was now known, had a minor hit with “Hurricane Hattie”.

In 1964, Cliff was chosen to represent Jamaica at the World’s Fair in New York, where a record executive actually knocked on his door and after signing with Island Records, he moved to the UK where he gained a solid following.  Of course, it was the 1972 film, “The Harder They Come” and its subsequent soundtrack that made Jimmy Cliff a worldwide star.

Lauded as the most significant movie to come out of Jamaica since it gained its independence, Cliff convincingly played the part of protagonist Ivanhoe Martin, who comes to Kingston as a poor boy trying to make it in the recording business… With six of the album’s tracks performed by Cliff, and the remaining tracks featuring songs by Toots and the Maytals, Desmond Dekker, the Melodians and other seminal reggae starts, “The Harder They Come” record, has long been credited with introducing reggae to the world.

Written by Cliff and first released on his eponymous (second) album in 1969, “Many Rivers to Cross” was one of those celebrated soundtrack numbers.  It has since been covered by artists as varied as: Percy Sledge, The Blind Boys of Alabama, Nilsson, Martha Reeves, Linda Ronstadt, The Animals, Desmond Dekker, Joe Cocker, UB40, Elvis Costello, Bruce Springsteen, Cher, U2, Bill Withers,  Lenny Kravitz, Annie Lennox and (indeed) the Soweto Gospel Choir.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Tuesday 12 June

Many Rivers to Cross

 Many rivers to cross

But I can’t seem to find my way over

Wandering I am lost

As I travel along the White Cliffs of Dover

 Many rivers to cross

And it’s only my will that keeps me alive

I’ve been licked, washed up for years

And I merely survive because of my pride

And this loneliness won’t leave me alone

It’s such a drag to be on your own

My woman left me and she didn’t say why

Well, I guess I’ll have to cry

 Many rivers to cross

But just where to begin I’m playing for time

There have been times I find myself

Thinking of committing some dreadful crime

 Yes, I’ve got many rivers to cross

But I can’t seem to find my way over

Wandering, I am lost

As I travel along the White Cliffs of Dover

 Yes, I’ve got many rivers to cross

And I merely survive because of my will…