New York Is A Woman, Suzanne Vega
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New York City spread herself before you
with her bangles and her spangles and her stars
you were impressed with the city so undressed
you had to go out cruising all the bars
your business trip extended through the weekend
suburban boy here for your first time
from the 27th floor above the midtown roar
you were dazzled by her beauty and her crime
and she's every girl you've seen in every movie
every dame you've ever known on late night TV
in her steam and steel is the passion you feel
endlessly
New York is a woman she'll make you cry
and to her you're just another guy
look down and see her ruined places
smoke and ash still rising to the sky
she's happy that you're here but when you disappear
she won't know that you're gone to say goodbye
and she's every girl you've seen in every movie
every dame you've ever known on late night tv
in her steam and steel is the passion you feel
desperately
New York is a woman she'll make you cry
and to her you're just another guy
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Listen here.
| Suzanne Vega | 9/11 |
That's a nice thing. I'm all for working with the melancholy; definitely important. Sometimes, also, I use an 'antidote' strategy to diminish certain things that weigh heavily on what I believe Stephen Colbert calls "my headbone." I try to conjure up some great memories and often I am rewarded with a little spritz of endorphin that is so useful on a bleak anniversary. Here's one of my very favorite memories of Mike, from WAY back in the day, but it was so insane that it is now a permanent part of my wiring.
Back in 19hrhrmmrh, the Purple Crayon was on tour somewhere sunny, and we were doing a show outside, I think. We were doing a musical game; we often did rap (ahem) or opera, but we were experimenting with reggae (ahem) on this occasion. So we were in a sort of Jamaican vibe and the suggestion we got (for whatever reason) was "schizophrenia." At which point, Mike unfurled the following piece of truly inspired improv, delivered in a properly ridiculous pseudo-accent wafting along the gently undulating rhthyms of a faux Caribbean beat:
Now when Jamaicans
say "I and I,"
Don't you know
that they mean "we..."
But when *I*
say "I and I,"
I am referring
to only me...
This is so specific and nerdly and brilliant and winning that it lodged in my headbone and there it remains, whenever I need a chuckle. Thanks, Mike! Many happy returns.
Anyone else? Hilarious, awesome, wonderful memories?
Comment #1 :: link :: September 11, 2007 02:15 PMHeh, I remember that one. Still doesn't top the end of the "Pasta" Harold where you threw the Crayons up against the wall and then announced, "Yep, we're done!"
OK here's some 9/11 levity. Did you hear that all New Yorkers wore black in remembrance on 9/11? The problem was that no one noticed.
Yes, I made that one up. It's been a long time since San Diego.
Comment #2 :: link :: September 12, 2007 11:30 AM
