Paul Simon. Genius

 

When the dealin's done...

    My mother used to love Kenny Rogers. She kind of became a television viewer later in life, and his show was one of her favorites. I thought his songs were  sort of corny, my mother's choice, you know.  Even when his "Lucille" was popular, in 1977,  my kids would sing, "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille, with 500 children and a crap in the field."  Kenny was popular enough for even young children to mock a little.

  He recorded "The Gambler" in 1978, and the song shot to immense popularity. It was pleasant to listen to then, but for me now, the song, and his rendition, is a musical masterpiece. The writer, Don Schiltz, has perfected all the components of storytelling in the lyrics. Point of view is first person narrative. Setting, time and place, are  included in the first sentence, "On a warm summer evening on a train bound for nowhere."  Mood and subsequent motivation arise from being too tired to sleep and boredom. Dialog factors in along with action. The gambler barters advice for a drink of whiskey. The action plays out with drinking the whiskey, smoking a cigarette, and fading off to sleep--and death, true to his ironic admonition that "The best we can hope for is to die in our sleep."   And we get the theme:  the moral of the story in the end is "There'll be time enough for counting when the dealin's done. 

  I remember hearing the the song was to be made into a movie. I don't know if it ever was, but I have discovered the video of Kenny Rogers singing the song, in the  persona of the narrator, evidently on a train, and prepared to gamble. His dress and demeanor are perfectly suited to his role. He or someone must have done extensive research for the re-enactment, down to how he handles the cards and money and even the way he pours the whiskey. But one detail fascinates me for personal reasons. He takes off his hat and wipes an apparent smudge, not with his hands, but with the sleeve of his coat. That move is so familiar to me that it seems I've seen it a hundred times, but am not sure where. It is true that for much of his life, my father wore a felt fedora hat. Maybe he spiffed up his hat that way, wiping it on his sleeve so as not to sully it with grease or such on his hands. Or maybe some other men of that era, used that technique in church or somewhere. Or possibly characters from the early days of television. I don't know why that simple move seems so familiar, but it's kind of a haunting feeling.

Fallacy of Fallon

     Last night, Jimmy Fallon did his segment on albums not to play or whatever. He plays bit of actual records, vintage, foreign, that are terrible, to put it mildly. The Roots band, judges of authentic entertainment recordings, obligingly smirks and snarks along with Jimmy at how bad the so-called music is. The audience, both studio and presumably those at home, heartily agree.

  But, for sheer hypocrisy, cut to the end of the show and the closing musical number:   A sexually-clad woman at one end of the stage and her co-performer across the stage dressed in heavy darkness. She sings something like "I can only see raindrops" over and over while he dominates with off-color rap lyrics. Personally, I would prefer any of the half-dozen "do not buy albums."  

Shoulda bought stock in...

 ...Chalk paint and mulch.

Power Saws---definitely; Rustling leaves---not so much

 

In my yard today:

 At least the target practice didn't have my name on it. More positive, roses are still blooming and tomatoes are growing.