12/9/22
Newsletter #183
The Crack of Dawn
In 1969 at the age of 11 I bought Led Zeppelin I and thought it was pretty much the best record I’d ever heard in my life (and still do). I thought, “These guys are great and nobody’s ever heard of them. They’re so damn cool they don’t even have a single.” A couple of months later I was in the record store and there was Led Zeppelin II. I thought, “Man, that’s awfully fast to put out a second record. I bet it’s crap.” Still, like a good fan, I bought it. Although it was not quite as good as the first one, it was still fabulous. It also contained their first hit, Whole Lotta Love, and then everybody knew about them. This was a brand-new subgenre of rock music – heavy metal. I loved it. The next big, successful heavy metal record was Paranoid by Black Sabbath (which may still have the worst album cover ever), and it was huge. Iron Man was a giant hit. I thought the whole album was terrific. So, I was up at the Kresge’s looking at the albums and there was this record with a cool skull and crossbones on the cover by the awesomely named band, the Grateful Dead. I took it home, eagerly put it on the turntable, and god dammit if it wasn’t country/folk music. I was aghast. How dare they misrepresent themselves with a heavy metal album cover just to foist off this wimpy crap. I took the record directly into the laundry room, set it on the ironing board, put a towel over it and ironed it until it was completely warped. I then returned it to Kresge’s and got my three dollars back.
At just about that same time my mom took me with her to the grocery store, and gosh darn if they didn’t have a small selection of albums. Right in front was the original Broadway soundtrack of Hair. I’d heard through the grapevine that it had dirty words in it. I asked my mom if she’d buy it. She had no idea what it was, but she liked Broadway shows, so she bought it. The first time I heard the song Colored Spade I was shocked, but even as an eleven- or twelve-year-old I understood that that was the point of the song. In the 50-odd years since this came out it is now the perfect exemplification of non-PC, and its point – sticks and stones will break my bones/ Names will never hurt me – has been lost. We were a more sophisticated society in 1969 than we are now. We were on the verge of getting all the epithets to have no meaning, then in time it turned around to where these silly words are all so loaded now that they are banned and if you say them in public your life and career can be destroyed. That’s not a sign of growth, or sophistication; it’s a regression into simpleminded, hyper-sensitive paranoia. But this is what they were selling in the grocery store in 1969.
I'm a colored spade
A negro, a black nigger
A jungle bunny, Jigaboo coon
Pickaninny mau mau
Uncle Tom, Aunt Jemima
Little Black Sambo
Cotton pickin'
Swamp guinea
Junk man
Shoeshine boy
Elevator operator
Table cleaner at Horn and Hardart
Slave voodoo, zombie
Ubangi lipped
Flat nose, tap dancin'
Resident of Harlem
And president of
The United States of Love
President of
The United States of Love
There she is
You invite this man to dinner
You're gonna have to feed him
Watermelon, hominy grits
An' shortnin' bread
Alligator ribs and pig tails
Some Black Eyed Peas
Hot Chilies
Some watermelon hominy grits
An' shortnin' bread, alligator ribs
Pig tails, Black Eyed Peas
Collard greens
And if you don't watch out
The boogie man will get you
Boo!
I swam 40 laps yesterday, and I may do it again today. So, good on y’all.