Jim’s brief for this week’s Song Lyric Sunday is to play “A song by someone who has died.” Blunt, but clear! His post Turn Me On, Dead Man tells us more. (I looked up the reference, and apparently it is a song by a band I’ve never heard of, The Tear Garden). Thinking about this I knew that I have posted several tribute posts after a favourite musician. has gone to join the ‘choir invisible’ but which should I play for this? And another candidate was someone who died nine years before I began blogging but who I have featured in my Listen To The Band series. In the end, I settled on that second case, but I’m also going with one of those from a tribute: two songs, then.
I’m leading with a song from one of the most underrated singer-songwriters of the past fifty years, in my view. This is an absolute gem of a song, which makes an important point:
Here are its lyrics:
I am a backseat driver from America They drive to the left on Falls Road The man at the wheel’s name is Seamus We pass a child on the corner he knows And Seamus says, “Now, what chance has that Kid got?” And I say from the back, “I don’t know.” He says, “There’s barbed wire at all of these exits And there ain’t no place in Belfast for that kid To go.”
It’s a hard life It’s a hard life It’s a very hard life It’s a hard life wherever you go If we poison our children with hatred Then, the hard life is all that they’ll know And there ain’t no place in (Belfast) for These kids to go
A cafeteria line in Chicago The fat man in front of me Is calling black people trash to his children He’s the only trash here I see And I’m thinking this man wears a white hood In the night when his children should sleep But, they slip to their window and they see him And they think that white hood’s all they need
It’s a hard life It’s a hard life It’s a very hard life It’s a hard life wherever you go If we poison our children with hatred Then, the hard life is all that they’ll know And there ain’t no place in (Belfast) for These kids to go
I was a child in the sixties Dreams could be held through TV With Disney, and Cronkite, and Martin Luther Oh, I believed, I believed, I believed Now, I am the backseat driver from America I am not at the wheel of control I am guilty, I am war, I am the root of all evil Lord, and I can’t drive on the left side of the road
It’s a hard life It’s a hard life It’s a very hard life It’s a hard life wherever you go If we poison our children with hatred Then, the hard life is all that they’ll know And there ain’t no place in (Belfast) for These kids to go
Nanci Griffith was born in July 1953, two months before me, so although we grew up in different countries we have shared our experience of the world and all its changes. In the song she references growing up in the 60s which, when we look back now, was a tumultuous decade, which in many ways has shaped our current lives: the Vietnam War, the civil rights movement, the assassinations of JFK, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the Cold War in Europe, student demonstrations, and the massive changes in popular culture. But what have we learned from all of this? Seemingly, precious little, sadly. She passed away in August 2021, at the age of 68, and there followed an outpouring of tributes from the many artists she had worked with, played with, and written songs for.
It’s A Hard Life was written, as it says, following a conversation Nanci had with the cab driver taking her round Belfast in the days before the Good Friday Peace Agreement, when ‘The Troubles’ still persisted. The video was recorded at the time the song was released, and shows the scars of that time in Belfast. The song expands the metaphor into a wider message about how we need to bring our children up without teaching them to hate, and I’ve loved it ever since I bought the album it is on, Storms, when it came out in August 1989 (UK #38, UK Country #1, US #99, US Country #42). It still speaks volumes today, sadly, and will always be relevant – if Nanci were only to be remembered for one song, this should be it.
[I’ve been advised that the video doesn’t have permission in the US, which is odd considering that Nanci was American and it is the official video! If you can find it, please do, as it has some poignant scenes, but if not this lovely live version does work over there: https://youtu.be/eCnAwkULI-4?si=wc3pQFfs8lQsjAbV ]
Today’s second tune is by someone whose music I have also loved for a long time, who was taken from us far too early in September 2003, at just 56. This is another gem of a song:
Shadows are falling and I’m running out of breath Keep me in your heart for a while If I leave you, it doesn’t mean I love you any less: Keep me in your heart for a while
Warren Zevon knew that he was dying: he had been diagnosed with a virulent form of cancer and had been given a year to live. He decided to spend his time making one final record, and called in favours from his many friends and colleagues in the music business to help him do it. Keep Me In Your Heart was written by Warren and his long time friend Jorge Calderón, who has worked with many artists, including the likes of Jackson Browne. The video is taken from a documentary that was made about the making of this final album which is, as you might expect, full of joy, laughter and tears. I won’t show the whole piece – it runs to around 43 minutes – but you can find it here if you wish to see more: It is a lovely watch: the guest list is stellar, and the comradeship and love between them all is incredibly touching to see. This is the closing track, and it is a perfect way to finish what he knew would be his final record. The album, The Wind, was one of his most successful, reaching #12 in the US and #57 here in the UK. It was released on 26 August 2003, and Warren died on 7 September, just twelve days later. This final album won him two posthumous Grammy Awards, plus a further three nominations. R.I.P. Warren. Thank you for the music.
