The song began on a cold January day in 2011. My daughter had brought me her Casio keyboard to keep me company while she and her mother traveled in India. I love the preset rhythms on the old Casio and remember the time when it was the only drummer of our neophyte reggae band. As in the old days, I amplified the keyboard rhythm and played through our old One Drop PA system. I started playing with the rhythm and this song started to happen. It seemed a good time to make a song about romance and lifetimes. I know I was looking at a wind-swept snowscape when I imagined a warmer planet, “closer to the sun.” This is the first song Caitlin played on. One of her friends had cajoled her to volunteer to play on my recordings. I’ve been grateful to him ever since. This song was written in the dead of winter. I remember picking her up on one of the coldest days.
When Tom Daddesio and I started our exploration of reggae music and cultural theory, we had no idea we would someday play the music. We approached it as scholars and collectors of obscure Jamaican records. Sometime around 1991, we attempted to approach the music in a less scholarly and more holistic way—by learning to play it. Our first recordings were on cassette tape. Digital recording eventually supplanted analog tape but developing a format to present our new digital recordings presented a problem. With the help of CSBSJU media consultant, Adam Konczewski, I developed a webpage and that page has evolved over the last ten years. Because our music grew out of the study of reggae which is also the study of slavery in the capitalist system, we always saw social theory as our main reason for making songs. As we began making songs, recording and production technology changed again and we have now updated this website. All along the way, we have discovered what we are doing while we are doing it. Each step taught us something.
A few years ago, one of my students–I think the class was Environmental Literature.–had been reading a labor newspaper before class and gave it to me. It had an article about how often women organized and supported labor movements but that the men took the credit and also took the labor of women for granted. I was a kid at the time, but I remember when my dad, a railroad worker, would be on strike. I remember being scared but was too little to know why. Men would meet on our porch and have dark, threatening conversations. My mom would cook for them and keep the kids away from the porch. So the Anna in the first verse is made-up from that. The irony of the labor movement exploiting the labor of women did not dawn on me for many years.
What a shame–when your baby don’t want you anymore–
What a shame shame shame when your baby don’t want you anymore–
She said she finished my chapter–closed her book—
Showed me out the door.
I wanted you yesterday and I want you more today.
It’s a garden of earthly pleasures—won’t you come out and play?
And I dreamed you were my inspiration.
Bold lovers on a midnight ride.
Dreams like this—shadows and mist.
Dreams that don’t abide.
There’s a distance I perceive between the summer and the dream.
Like a melody between you and me.
Like a work of art– longing at the heart
Express what cannot be shown, draw pictures of the unknown.
Won’t you be my inspiration?
Won’t you be my guiding light?
I like to feel so desperate in the darkness.
I don’t need everlasting light.
I get so burned out doing business.
I get so weary making war.
I get bored exploiting nature.
I need more creatures to destroy.
There’s a distance, I perceive
Between the summer and a dream,
Like a melody
Between you and me.
Like a work of art
Longing at the heart
Express what can’t be shown
Draw pictures of the unknown.
“The work is the death mask of its conception.”
(Walter Benjamin, One Way Streets)
He didn’t think he could get lost
Crossing those streets he used to cross.
He didn’t think he’d forget those possessions
That were so hard to get.
Crossing those thoughts, watching them fade,
Falling in love with the things he made.
As if in a dream, walking those streets
Fascinated by the things he meets.
Dis yer place is a frozen
An island in the snow
All the people dance so gritty
All the people move so slow
Dis yer place is cold and icy
The winter winds they always blow
Spend the time in the cloudy
Make the people oh so cold