I Can See Through Your Masks

Go have a listen to Eddie Vedder’s rendition of Masters of War at the Bob Dylan 30^th Anniversary Concert.

            You ain’t worth the blood that runs in your veins

            Even Jesus would never forgive what you do

            All the money you made will never buy back your soul

Ouch!  It might not be the most popular protest song of all time, but it’s got to be the angriest, and Vedder’s performance is spellbinding.

Is that kind of anger still out there and I just can’t find it?  Don’t we have a few things to protest about?  The world don’t look too perfect to me, man.  Why aren’t we, like we used to say, telling it like it is?

The Hypnotized Never Lie

Was any song ever more prescient than The Who’s Won’t Get Fooled Again?

The change it had to come.  We knew it all along.  But the parting on the left is now the parting on the right.

Are the morals that we worship all gone?  How long before we’ll be fighting in the street with our children at our feet?  Will our families be left even half alive?  Did the shotgun always sing the song?

Townshend always made it clear he would never be drawn into choosing sides between “us” and “them,” and, although a lot of stuff has gone down in the last forty years, he proved himself right.  History ain’t changed.

Nothing in the street looks any different to me either.

Meet the new boss.  Same as the old boss.  No wonder Daltrey blew out his vocal chords with that scream.

It Ain’t Me

Have a listen to CCR: Fortunate Son. 

Recorded, and presumably written, in 1969.  Still as true today as it was then.  Maybe even more so.

Lotsa stuff from back then didn’t age too good.  Hippy stuff.  Trippy stuff.  Peace, love and drippy stuff.

Not so this tune.  Relevant or what?  How’d ya do that, John?

Some folks are born to wave the flag,
Ooh, they're red, white and blue.
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief",
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord,

It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no,
Yeah!

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don't they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,

It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no.

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord,
And when you ask them, "How much should we give?"
Ooh, they only answer More! more! more! yoh,

It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no military son, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, one.
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no no no,
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no no no,