Wendy takes on...

...the blopic of the day and wins! (or just muses)

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

 
...Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia

I've always thought that those Merry Prankster types were almost there with their notions of an individual's right to choose. Somehow though, (through the drug-induced haze, perhaps?) they got all mixed up and forgot about the importance of owning your labor and the fruits of it, so you could buy all that mind-altering Kool-Aid.

Their fans struck me as pretty much the same. Despite their supposed socialist, pacifist beliefs, Deadheads took part in the purest form of capitalism I have ever experienced. Everything was available for sale outside Grateful Dead shows and people were really good at informing the public of their demands and their marketable goods.

"Cash for your extras."
"Who's got my pharmaceuticals?"
"Kind, veggie burritos!"

So, I thought I'd make my first foray into socio-political commentary on song lyrics with one of my favorite Dead songs.

Deconstructing Ripple

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come through the music,
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

The Pied Piper? John Lennon? Richard Bach? Noam Chomsky? Wormtongue? If we like the way they say it so much that we don't care what they say, will we allow them to weave their thoughts into our heads?

Those old-and-in-the-way fellas understand the power of charm that acts like an instant on-switch for popular delusions. Ain't no message like the one we've got.

It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken,
Perhaps they're better left unsung.

As Friedrich Hayek said of intellectuals, "we have no better name by which to describe what we have called the second-hand dealers in ideas."

They also recognize that while they have an extraordinary gift to convey ideas to the masses, they're not saying anything all that new. How many truly original ideas have you heard lately? They're just sampled and mixed into radio-friendly songs with slightly different beats. Of course, we've learned more from our three-minute records than we ever learned in school.

I don't know, don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air.

We choose ignorance. We choose whomever will allow us to remain blissfully childlike and dependent, as long as we are fed and happy. This is the logic that leads us to believe economic sanctions will bring down brutal dictatorships. This is what makes commercial radio painful to hear if you listen to music and don't just skim through it.

Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.

No one needs to do anything. It's the hundredth-monkey theory, ya know? Like, if we all just believe the same thing, we'll achieve this utopian greater good and everything will be, like, way mellow.

Or are they saying "please don't you rock my boat?"

I like to interpret this as a reminder that lazily floating along and riding the current isn't enough. You've always got to keep paddling, or you'll get washed out to sea and drown.

There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night,
And if you go no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone.

Are we flirting with the notion of free will? Are we acknowledging the fact that we do determine our own destinies?

But if you fall, you fall alone,
If you should stand, then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home.

I knew they could do it! I knew I loved the Dead for a reason!

We must live our lives according to our own principles. We cannot lower our standards to those of others. We must decide for ourselves. We must allow others to decide for themselves.
Wendy 10:12 PM