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#living with war
dollarbin · 3 months
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Shakey Sundays #10:
Living With War
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(Rest assured Fair Reader, we'll get to this photo and its relationship with the album in question in good time; for now let's just wonder if Neil, on the right, is wearing blush or if he's blushing because he's just been seen associating with Stephen the Hutt, on the left. Again, we'll get there in good time! Now, on with the post...)
The teenagers I teach, who are all pretty awesome, arrive knowing almost nothing about modern events. Wait, they say, there was a war in Iraq? Are we talking about, like, recently? Were we alive? Wow. Dude, what'd you say? There were like two wars in Iraq? Were we in them? Iraq's a country, right? Who won?
Well, kids, no one won. But hundreds of thousands of people lost their lives. And millions are still suffering from the effects of the conflicts. And Iraq is, like totally, a country.
The teens come alive when you start to get into the details; I'm proud to stay pretty damn nonpartisan in the classroom but there's no way to teach these events without telling students the truth: the Bush administration lied. And I don't mean once. They lied over and over again for years. WMDs; links between Iraq and 9/11; government directed torture; death counts. And our country went along for the ride; we were so shell shocked by 9/11 that we, like totally, like literally, believed Iraq=Muslim + Saddam=Bad Guy therefore, War=Now.
Well not all of us bought it. I'm a very proud American and I did my patriotic duty by angrily protesting the Second Gulf War. I'm guessing many of you did too.
And when Neil Young woke up after years of shaggy dog Greendale story telling and Prairie Wind flatulence to rage against his adopted country's moral corruption, I felt relieved, proud and in sync with his anger.
Indeed, I'd argue that Living With War is a pretty cool chapter in Young's story. Not only was he right when he called us all out for being lazy and dumb, he also rehired his kick in the ass band from Eldorado and recorded everything with Ohio-level pace and boldness, writing and recording the album in less than two weeks and getting it out and into our ears within a month.
And just listen to the opening track! Young finds his riff on Old Black, nods at his six-cups-of-coffee drummer and then sounds immediately and deeply alive, shaking himself and all of us out of our Bush beer garden of complacency.
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Cool, huh? It's almost 20 years later and George W. Bush's brand of homespun, ignorant evil appears quaint in comparison to the nonstop barrage of totalitarian terror being spouted on the campaign trail in and in the courts (seriously, if frozen embryos are now human beings why aren't refugees being welcomed with open arms and being offered all the jobs Americans like you and me rely on but refuse to do ourselves?) but I still feel pumped up when I listen to this song.
So why isn't the record a bigger deal? Why doesn't it shoulder its way into our thinking not just about Young but about that whole embarrassing era in our history? I'm afraid there are a few pretty good reasons why.
For one thing a lot of the writing sucks. In the earnest and almost soulful Roger and Out Young rhymes no words in the first verse, then decides to go big and connect "way" with "today" in the second verse, then shrugs and sets "today" alongside "yesterday" after that. This is coming from the guy who once wrote "roads stretch out like healthy veins, and wild gift horses strain the reigns." Come on Neil, confer with a dictionary.
One spot where the lyrics come alive in the upsetting and enjoyably silly The Restless Consumer. Check this frantic song out:
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You can hear in the song that Young assembled a 100 person choir for this record and spent one 12 hour day teaching them to sing along with his best crazy grandpa voice on lines like:
Don't need no TV ad Telling me how sick I am Don't need to know how many people are like me Don't need no dizziness Don't need no nausea Don't need no side effects like diarrhea or sexual death
Roger that, Neil. When I see you live in April with the Horse (yes, I've got tickets, gods be praised) I promise I won't scream out from my cheap seats in the back about any of these topics you mention. But I will scream. Lots.
Another shortcoming on the record is Neil's unwillingness, or inability at that moment, to destroy and thereby uplift the songs with his own lead guitar.
Stroll through his wacky eclectic career and there are nearly no constants: one moment he's making violent computerized pop, the next he's impersonating Willie Nelson. By 2006 he had 40 years of proudly obstinate inconsistency under his belt. But Neil, at least when making band-oriented music, had - almost - always used a rhythm guitar player.
First there was Richie Furray and He Who Shall Not Be Named because he sucks.
(But that guitarist does appear, as we noted at the top, in today's opening photo from the Living with War era. You see, that's not Pizza the Hut standing with Neil in the image; it's You Know Who, or maybe we should call him You No Poo; Neil had a tour planned with Crosby, Satan and Nash long before he wrote and rushed out Living With War; then he foisted the record on them for their summer tour together; Stills was unimpressed by it all and complained a lot, probably because he'd voted for Bush in the first place and knew that the only people who still bought his records were dumb asses who'd followed his lead in the voting booth.)
Then along came Danny, Nils, Ben, and Poncho (and even Steve Cropper and the kids in Pearl Jam and Promise of the Reeled in Flounder). Occasionally, such as on Comes a Time and Old Ways, Neil used not one rhythm guitarist, but instead about 16 of them. He idolizes Hendrix but rarely tries to be him.
Living With War is, like the killer Eldorado, the snoozy Greendale and the confounding Le Noise that would soon follow, one of Neil's rare solo guitar attack moments. And, on this occasion anyway, it's a mistake.
Neil heard the album's basic tracks after his rushed and passionate recording session (he'd later release those first takes on their own as Living With War - In the Beginning) and knew there simply wasn't quite enough music to go around. He'd been too busy teaching the songs to the drummer, bass player and himself to remember to shred.
He could have summoned Poncho and given the whole project another week. He should have. Instead, he got all Bernard Shakey on us and brought in not just the 100 piece choir, who must have spent their 12 hour session alternatively inspired, snickering and baffled, but also a trumpeter. And we're not talking about Miles Davis and Don Cherry here.
Instead, it sounds like Neil stopped by the local high school, plucked the third chair from the marching band, then played slow enough to let him try, and fail, to keep up. Take a listen.
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Even the choir and drunk trumpet weren't enough to entirely salvage such songs. You'll hear in the video above that Neil also brings back Re-ac-tor era space warfare sound effects and mixes in sound-clips of the Dubbya himself. This whole song and, for that matter, the whole album, is silly, inspired, simplistic, drunk and awesome all at once.
Sound like all the ingredients we need for another Shakey Sunday.
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wineslacker · 1 year
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A reporter’s journal of life in war.
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titleofpersonage-p01 · 2 months
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dirt-mccracken · 6 months
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As much as I want to be a wholly joyous about the fact that Henry Kissinger is finally fucking dead, as he deserves... There's a lot of me that can't help being upset with. With the fact that he lived to 100 years old. He got better medical care, better housing, and a better, more stable life for those 100 years than billions on this planet ever going to see and he did it specifically through exploitation, state sanctioned murder, and lies. He lived to 100 years comfortably on a legacy of violence that rarely threatened his personal comfort. I want to be joyous that he's finally dead, because the world IS better with him dead, but the reality is he won a long time ago.
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jloisse · 2 months
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Reality of Mothers in Palestine.
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DO YOU KNOW THIS CHARACTER?
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malinaa · 6 months
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if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing
#imagine you're a boy who's going to die. you're in love with the girl you've been watching from afar. you know your fate.#you just want to help her‚ but then there's the announcement and she's here in front of you‚ kissing you‚ risking her life for you and you#think‚ i could live and i could love. you think she loves you when she hands you the berries‚ when she puts them in her mouth.#then you both survive and you go back home and nothing is real anymore. you have nothing. no family. no friends. no love. just an empty#house. a drunk for a neighbor. the love of your life walking into somebody else's arms. you think‚ i survived the games. i could survive#this. and you also think‚ i should've bit down on those berries‚ should've felt the juice burst before i died.#and then the third quarter quell announcement rings in your ears and you think‚ she will live and i will die as i should have in the first#place. the girl you love kisses you on the beach and somewhere you heart stirs and your mind revolts and you savor every touch she has ever#given to you‚ in front of the cameras and off. because you are a tribute and you are always being watched and snow's presence looms and#you think‚ i know she cares. but you get taken. you get drugged. you get tortured‚ your mind altered. the girl is a mutt‚ a murderer. she's#everything you despise‚ your mind stirs. your heart revolts. you gain more awareness but cannot distinguish reality from fiction and you#have never known katniss' love. the war ends. you heal. you come home. you plant primrose for her. years down the line‚ you grow in love#more than you thought possible. but some days‚ you cannot tell fiction from reality so you ask the love of your life‚ you love me.#real or not real? and she says‚ real‚ and kisses you.#and you sigh and kiss her back and revel in this. a home. a life. a love.#lit#the hunger games#everlark#otp: real or not real?#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#text#tais toi lys#thgpost
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chaiaurchaandni · 4 months
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fuck western/white feminism.
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i-hate-charger-mains · 9 months
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Callie and her socially inept cousin <3
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ofthedarkwoods · 7 months
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Edit: IM SO FUCKING TIRED OF IGNORANCE
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lesbinewren · 1 year
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truly do not understand people looking at something with dynamic, colorful, beautifully stylized animation and going “okay that’s cool but what if it just looked like real life instead”
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nando161mando · 2 months
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These are the humanitarian heroes of #Gaza. The indigenous and the unsung.
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milkcioccolato · 5 months
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How the phantom menace should have gone, imo😌
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gleafer · 5 months
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LORDY LORDY!
Reddit’s favorite steamy fandom sub @goodomensafterdark is hosting an ineffable smut war starting on this Monday and ending Valentine’s Day! Writers and artists will be submitting their sauciest fandom creations in a friendly battle to see who gets the audience sweating more!
It’s all in good fun and EVERYONE wins a whole month of creators serving the spice!
Come join us, maybe you’ll find your next favorite writer or artists! (Why not both??)
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that-dumb-dinosaur · 8 months
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dave filoni, you're paying for my therapy
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rastronomicals · 3 months
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9:41 AM EST February 22, 2024:
Neil Young - "Living With War" From the album Living With War (May 2, 2006)
Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm
This album is a master class from one who knows about the sick sick tones possible with the severely microphonic guitar named Old Black. There's hardly any soloing at all, no bass, there's silly choral vocals, but the rhythm guitar--haloed in nasty attack--sounds so amazing none of it matters at all.
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