Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir. I have tried in my way to be free.

Four on one. I don't like those odds. Here is a little gang warfare, Geilston Bay-style.

Even though this image is a universal one, every time I see it I think of Leonard Cohen. Well, I always think of Leonard Cohen, but I usually hear Kris Kristofferson. Or Willie Nelson. Or Johnny Cash. Or Rita Coolidge. Or Fairport Convention. And sometimes - just sometimes - I hear good old Leonard himself.

You know it's a good track when there are so many decent covers.

Comments

smudgeon said…

True, Dirty Lenny's songwriting is marvellous even at it's worst. And when his tunes are covered, the standard is usually high.

But if I hear one more twit wailing 'Hallelujah' as if their soul depended on it, I will garotte them. Personally.

23 May 2009 at 09:35

Kris McCracken said…

Me, much like Ms Houston's mauling of Dolly's masterful I Will Always Love You, the vocal gymnasts that take Hallelujah through the motions of extremity are missing the point.

23 May 2009 at 09:38

Dina said…

I always start sub-vocalizing the song when I see birds on a wire too.
Lenny's live in London concert was broadcast last night on Israel TV (too bad I don't have a TV). From the previews I saw the man is looking his age but sounding the same.

23 May 2009 at 15:43

Dina said…

For a new line in the song see
http://jerusalemhillsdailyphoto.blogspot.com/2008/08/like-bird-on-wire.html

23 May 2009 at 15:45

Kris McCracken said…

Dina, well, it's not like Leonard had much of a voice to lose! ;)

I say that as a fan.

23 May 2009 at 15:45

Kris McCracken said…

Dina, I never knew that!

23 May 2009 at 15:46

Babzy.B said…

I 'm a fan of Mister Cohen , i've tried to be free but it is not so easy ...

23 May 2009 at 20:29

Kris McCracken said…

Babzy, it's like a cult.

25 May 2009 at 09:54

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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