Alexis showed me the beginnings of this song — some chords, a hiphop drumbeat, and sketches of lyrics - and I came up with a melody, a new set of lyrics, and some different arrangement ideas. The words followed her story line, sort of, but not in the first person as she'd envisioned it. She worked it out with her band, using the vocal as I'd written it, but none of the musical changes. Those are my style, I guess, and not hers. I was glad when she agreed to add her voice to my arrangement. No one's commented on my lifting the melody from 'Over the Rainbow,' for the intro, so it must be hard to notice.

listen to the song

In the world of gamelan music, it's very odd to pair Balinese gender (with a hard 'g,' rhymes with men dare — that's the tuned bronze percussion instrument you hear) with drums from West Java. But the Sundanese (of West Java) musicians on this song had already been using Balinese instruments, for their own purposes, so hell, why not? Ismet Ruchimat, a professor at the music academy in Bandung, is a prolific composer, and a frequent collaborator with musicians from outside his native culture. He has many unusual projects of his own under his belt, featuring new combinations of traditional Sundanese instruments, and influences from 'foreign' musical traditions, such as African rhythms, Samba and others. He's used Balinese gamelan to play Sundanese-style music. I was very fortunate to benefit from his creativity for this project, as was Sabah Habas Mustafa (of 3 Mustafas 3), on his last 2 CDs.

Ismet and Atay played kendang (a set of large and small hand drums) and ketrek (sounds a bit like a high hat) on this song, as well as on Native Sun, (and two others which should make it on my next disk). The drumming style is like that of Jaipongan music; needless to say, I'm an avid fan. Notice the large gong sounding four beats *before* the end of each section, and the drums anticipating it; this is typical of Jaipongan. The gender parts, re-tuned slightly to match my standard-pitch instruments (thanks to Emu digital sampling technology, and to Wayne Vitale for the tuning formula), are played in the Balinese idiom, more or less — until the jig section at the end.

listen to the song

The lyrics for this one were written in response to the great Exxon Valdez disaster in 1989, which covered a thousand miles of the Alaska coastline in oil. A friend pointed out that anyone who uses gasoline shares the blame for that mess, so it's a mix of anger, guilt, and therefore frustration. All pretty negative, huh? Well, it is. What might sound like a happy resolution at the end is really just a suggestion to consider intense negative feelings as a gift, empowering us to take positive steps. Generally, however, I feel constructive suggestions have no place in a good angry song — that's the listener's job! So you're getting more than you deserve, this time. ;^)

listen to the song

Best if you to listen to the lyrics on this one, before reading on. Go ahead, I'll wait. Now, if you came away wondering if I'm advocating amnesty for people who send explosive surprises in the mail, that's good! If you haven't noticed, controversy is good for songwriters' careers! Just kidding (though that claim is true enough). No, I abhorred Ted Kasinsky's little spree of terror as much as anyone. Probably more, in fact, because of the negative effect I think it had on the sincere dedication many others (perhaps myself as well) have shown to the cause of ringing alarm bells on the dangers of modern society's unthinking addiction to technology. His actions cast a dark shadow on all such enterprises, making us all look a little kookier, more suspect. I took it upon myself, as an artist, to offer a different perspective. So I pose as him trying to justify his crimes. It was easy to give him all the rope he needed to hang himself. What an ego this guy has — look at me, Mom, I'm saving the world!

Ted's precious manifesto, which I purposely waited to read until the song was complete, had many flaws, but none that prevented him from making a decent case about the paralyzing effects of complacency in our culture — which allows our industries (and consumers) to wreak havoc on the planet, and on our own humanity. I wish I could applaud his efforts on that account; obviously that's pretty difficult, given his bad attitude, his disregard for life. I think of him (and other deranged, but less articulate, killers — such as the Bali bombers) as the inevitable by-product of the same kinds of systemic problems he was criticizing.

listen to the song

Some might wish I'd offer some detailed explanation for the dark lyrics in this one, but sometimes poets and songwriters just have to let their work stand on its own two feet, you know? Sorry! A general direction though: It's painful to see the fear some people have, when they think about dying. Whatever culture one is born to, that's the source of information we have for what happens when this life comes to an end, and some of us get some pretty twisted ideas that way.

I borrowed from Native American notions about the state of the world, as well as their patterns of (English) speech, for these lyrics. Indians are typically very "plain spoken," to the ears of most native English speakers, so it should be easy enough to catch the meaning: the determination of a proud warrior to honor his people, who have suffered oppression. I struggled a bit with setting the story in the first person; some might see this as me attempting to speak for another culture, very non-PC. But I stuck with my original impulse, because I see this message rather as a universal one, simply dressed up to look like the Native American version (then there's the Balinese aspect, read on). I, as well as all my non-Native American listeners, can own these words well enough, because they apply (in spirit, if not in the details) to anyone who's had ancestors get their land ripped off, their culture oppressed, etc. Who has no such ancestor? For many of us, this is distant history, nonetheless, cultures survive because their whole history is a part of every person.

It so happens that my own Danish surname originated on the same disputed land where my mother's German family lived before coming to America; it alternated Danish and German flags, a number of times. Long before I was born, of course — but isn't the tension of those times still in my blood? I believe it is.

As for my decision to sing these words over a Balinese (and Sundanese) musical setting, well, I'm not sure how exactly to explain that; it just felt right. Probably has something to do with my one-quarter Dutch ancestry — the people who colonized Indonesia. How much easier it is for me to relate to the Balinese response to their oppressors, than to the actions of "my people," who caused their suffering. In 1906, they bravely mounted a non-violent resistance to the invading Dutch military (decades before Gandhi's famous deeds). The Dutch responded with a brutal massacre, but it was hardly a victory; public opinion worldwide turned against them. Though Indonesian independence was still 40 years away, the Balinese people are justifiably proud of their contribution to that cause.

Finally, lest I neglect to honor my own people, allow me to point out that any *thoughtful* historical account of interactions between unequally matched cultures will include the testimony of at least a few "true warriors" of the dominant culture, who spoke against the destruction of the other. They tend to find themselves powerless to prevent it, as those leading the charge keep good-hearted people in the dark with propaganda. My dear mother is German. Need I say more?

The idea for this story came from a letter I'd read, which my grandfather wrote to my grandmother, before they were married, and he was a Petty Officer in the US Navy. He wrote of his most memorable, but least favorite at-sea assignment — on a cruiser patrolling for icebergs, in the months following the sinking of the Titanic. It was the most boring duty imaginable; they never saw a single iceberg. The crew had little to keep them entertained; he said many simply slept a lot. He had a dream in which he was a passenger aboard the Titanic, trying to warn the Captain of the danger ahead; I embellished on it a bit.

I toyed with the idea of giving this waltz-time tune the full traditional Irish treatment. It might've sounded appropriate for the period, but I decided that would be overdoing it. Things are eclectic enough 'round here! Maybe some other time, or perhaps someone else will cover it that way. Anyway, I like those electrified Irish bands.