For the record
By Andrew Garison
For a moment–only silence
As the needle meets the groove
Then a symphony
Of electric crackling
As wax comes alive…
Track One – Letter for Bob
My eager ears soak up the sound
Of your famed midwestern warble
Strings of beatnik ramblin’
Bounce from wall to wall
Old timey talk of blowin’ wind
Of a-changin’ times
But if you ask me, Bob,
Things sure do look the same.
Gee it sure is funny
Just how quickly
Those folks you once sang to
Jumped to the other side
Of the picket line.
Did their bones ache from
All that marching or
Did they just stop caring
In the end?
Now, the way I see it
They just stuck us
With their hand-me-down problems
And jumped ship when
The waters got rough.
Just one look and you’ll see
That we’re still squabblin’
About the same old shit you warned us about.
Men are still walking, road after road,
Without a hint of dignity in sight.
And I’ll bet you, sure as hell,
Those old folks are still playin’ your tunes
Singing along to the Baby Boomer Poet Laureate
Completely ignorant of what it all meant.
In the end it’s all just talk:
They sing about the ballads of poor ol’
Horace Brown and Hattie Carol
But shout over the Horaces and Hatties
In their own backyard, crying out
For the slightest bit of help
Cause not everybody
has bootstraps to pull on.
Track 2 – Buffalo Bop
After “For What It’s Worth” by Buffalo Springfield
Unaware or out of touch?
Doesn’t explain why they talk so much
About the issues of the day
When they helped cause ‘em
They drew the battle lines
Now they’re standing on the other side.
Hey now, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down.
It never crossed my mind
That being on the right side of history
Could be considered “out of line.”
There was so much potential
But flower power was left to wilt
When Nixon left and Reagan came to town.
Tell me would your 20-year-old self
Be proud of you?
what’s that sound?
Everybody look
Ambition faded while the wrinkles formed.
You became the boot you refused to lick
When you had your first acid trip
And burning draft cards was all the rage
Your double standard
Really shows your age.
Everybody look what’s going down.
Coda
Through all the noise
The needle jumps the groove
Carving new ones, out of line
A shrill scratch, like a cat’s yelp
And the illusion is broken.