Master of War

Robert McNamara, the chief architect of the Vietnam War, passed away in his sleep yesterday at the age of 93. Ironic, given the violent deaths and endless suffering of so many Americans and Vietnamese that came as a result of his decisions.

Reading McNamara’s obituary in the New York Times this morning I learned that, like the most recent Iraqi conflict, the Vietnam War, which killed 58,000 Americans (about 10 times the Iraqi war) was launched on assumptions that were based on faulty information:

“Congress authorized the war after Johnson contended that American warships had been attacked by North Vietnamese patrol boats in the Gulf of Tonkin on Aug. 4, 1964. The attack never happened, as a report declassified by the National Security Agency in 2005 made clear. The American ships had been firing at radar shadows on a dark night. At the time, however, the agency’s experts told Mr. McNamara that the evidence of an attack was iron-clad. “It was just what Johnson [LBJ] was looking for.”

Not surprisingly, McNamara was haunted by his decisions for the rest of his life, as can be seen in Errol Morris's 2003 film The Fog of War:

Though his name is never stated in Bob Dylan's song, McNamara is a true Master of War. One of the highlights of Dylan's second record Freewheelin’ (a record which also included "Blowin in the Wind," "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" and "Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright"), "Masters of War" is easily among the greatest war-related songs ever written. The bite of the lyrics (which you can read in their entirety below), and the incessant drone of his lone guitar still sting today:

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

Speaking to USA Today's Edna Gundersen, Dylan said “Masters of War” is not an anti-war protest song per se, but rather "is supposed to be a pacifistic song against war. It's not an anti-war song. It's speaking against what Eisenhower was calling a military-industrial complex as he was making his exit from the presidency. That spirit was in the air, and I picked it up."

I was fortunate to see Eddie Vedder sing a memorable version of "Masters of War" at the 1992 Dylan tribute show at Madison Square Garden. Vedder’s hound-dog howling at times verged on self-parody, but he captured the spirit of the song well and made it his own.


In 1991, only days after the launch of the first Gulf War, Bob and his band took a punk-like approach to the song at the Grammys, where he received Lifetime Achievement honors.

While Dylan's vocals are far from his best here (he was sick that night), his guitarist Cesar Diaz blows out a couple of the hottest solos you'll see anywhere.


In recent years, the hip-hop soul group The Roots have played an ingenious live cover of "Masters of War" sung to the melody of Francis Scott Key's "Star Spangled Banner."


A few years back I saw Dylan play a minor league ballpark in Fishkill, NY. Late into the show, Dylan busted out a spellbinding version "Masters of War." A twentysomething woman near me said “Is this a new song?” “No” I said. “It’s forty-three years old.”

R.I.P. Mr. McNamara. Take it away, Bob.

Masters Of War
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

Happy Canada Day

Canada Day, formerly Dominion Day, is Canada's take on the 4th of July. It celebrates the July 1, 1867 enactment of the British North America Act, which united Canada as a single country of four provinces.

It's pretty clear what Rock Turtleneck needs to do: countdown the four greatest Canadian rockers, one for each province.

#4: Rush
In addition to being accomplished prog-musicians, Rush seem to be surprisingly cool. They were the first band to appear on the Colbert Report. And Geddy Lee is an avid wine collector and baseball fan; when Neil Peart goes into one of his long drum solos, Geddy says goes backstage to check his fantasy baseball scores.


#3: Leonard Cohen
The legendary poet-turned-singer and ladies' man has written many classics besides "Hallelujah." Here he is doing "Suzanne" with one of his many conquests, Judy Collins.


#2: Joni Mitchell
She's amazing by herself, and has flawless taste in musicians. Check out this band, featuring Jaco Pastorious on bass and Pat Metheny on guitar.


#1: Neil Young
No surprise here. Neil is the man. If it was Galaxy Day, Neil would still be right up near the top. Here's his ultimate Canada Day performance, doing a song about Canada with a Band of Canadians (Levon Helm is the sole American) and a Canadian bird named Joni singing backup.

Kind of a Drag

The New York Times had an interesting piece about Michael Jackson over the weekend, called “After Jackson, Fame May Never Be the Same.” It said that popular culture has fragmented to the point where no single entertainer is likely to repeat the massive crossover popularity that MJ enjoyed in his heyday. (That torch seems to have passed to Tiger Woods and Barack Obama.)

I saw the Times’ thesis first hand Thursday night, only moments after hearing of his death from a friend. We had gathered in a local organic food store which has taken to hosting local musicians. On this night my friend Mark’s band Cow Magnet was playing their highly accomplished takes on classic singer-songwriter tunes and acoustic Zeppelin tracks like “Hey Hey What Can I Do.”

The crowd was hungry for a tribute to the Gloved One however, so Mark launched his band into a very off-the-cuff version of “Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough,” yelling out the changes like the guy in Stevie Wonder’s “Fingertips.” It translated remarkably well to an acoustic arrangement.

While the well-heeled patrons bopped to the music and enjoyed locally grown, humanely-harvested free-range meats, veggies and cheeses, the passer-by seen above heard the song's seductive rhythms of the song from the train station across the street and poked his head in.

And by “his,” I use that term loosely, for this fellow fan of the King of Pop was a 6’5” drag queen in cocktail skirt, exposed midriff and Carrie Bradshaw heels.

The smiling transvestite stood in the doorway and dug the "Don't Stop" groove as Cow Magnet rode it end of the line, unaware of the latest addition to their audience. When the song ended, Mark turned his head and rather than being taken aback by the incongruity of a she-male in Martha Stewart country, held out his hand and said

“Hi, I’m Mark.”
“I’m Tony.”

They shook hands and Tony (or is it Toni?) went on his way. Where he was headed is anyone's guess.

But it just goes to show, if you’re thinking about celebrating Jacko, it don’t matter if you’re black or white. Hee hee.

R.I.P. Jacko

Michael Jackson's ability to electrify an audience and captivate the world were positively Elvis-like, and, tragically, so was his tragic, prescription-fueled, years-in-the-making death.


Though the self-proclaimed King of Pop lived eight years longer than the King of Rock & Roll (50 vs. 42), his musical relevance died somewhere around age 35. Thereafter came a tragic and, quite frankly, horrific decline; a cautionary tale in the pitfalls of child stardom and overwhelming celebrity, which included marrying Elvis's daughter. Even Elvis didn't hit it big until his 20s; Jacko was an icon when most kids would be in 5th grade. Like Elvis, but unlike The Beatles, Jackson had to face the pressures of mega-stardom alone.

For all his extremely dubious personal traits, Jacko was an immensely talented singer, dancer and songwriter, full of god-given joy and inspiration, the likes of which we see once every few decades, and his brilliant music is how Rock Turtleneck shall choose to remember him. Herewith, some of his greatest moments, courtesy of YouTube.





Some say that for Elvis, it was all downhill after he got drafted; for MJ, it was probably downhill from his performance on this Motown special. R.I.P. and TCB MJ.

Stone-Age Music

In a New York Times story today called "Flutes Offer Clues to Stone-Age Music", archaeologists have reported the discovery last fall of a bone flute and two fragments of ivory flutes that they said represented the earliest known flowering of music-making in Stone Age culture. They said the bone flute with five finger holes, found at Hohle Fels Cave in the hills west of Ulm, in southwestern Germany, was “by far the most complete of the musical instruments so far recovered from the caves” in a region where pieces of other flutes have been turning up in recent years.

The flutes are thought to be as much as 40,000 years old, meaning it took mankind approximately 39,959 years of flute-playing to get here:


... 39,963 years to get here:


And 39,995 to get here:

Dig the Hep New Sounds on the RT Hi-Fi

At Rock Turtleneck we lean mighty heavily on the giants of rock & roll: Dylan, Macca, Keef, etc. And while we can listen to Blood on the Tracks any day of the week (and do), nothing gets the blood pumping like a great new tune. Here are three new tunes that are well worth your while.

MGMT: "Kids"
Following in the heels of the equally awesome "Time to Pretend" and "Electric Feel," "Kids" is the third single off MGMT's watershed record Oracular Spectacular. This duo of Wesleyan grads is deceptively talented. Like Beck in his early days, their songs have a junkyard, tossed-off quality, but you can't get them out of your head - and you don't want to. And their live shows are supposed to be a total hoot. Paul McCartney says he wants to work with them. What are you waiting for boys?


Metric: "Help I'm Alive"
If you spent a lot of time listening to quote-unquote alternative music in the 90s, Metric will immediately conjure up fond memories of female led postpunk groups like Garbage, Belly and the Breeders. After years of not really listening to that type of music, it's nice to hear it again.


PJ Harvey and John Parish, "Black Hearted Love"
Polly Jean Harvey is one of the most eclectic musicians out there; some of her more indulgent stuff doesn't really do much for me. But when she sticks to traditional rock song stylings, as on this new collaboration with some dude named John Parish, she is thrilling. Here is the ethereal Ms. Harvey and her sharp-dressed band doing "Black Hearted Love" on Letterman a couple weeks back.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Pappy's Day to all patriarchs new and old out there. As a father of three yungins myself, I can say that fatherhood is immensely satisfying and I recommend it to all who are able and willing.

Thinking this morning about the ultimate Father's Day song, Harry Chapin's "Cats in the Cradle" came immediately to mind. Chapin did a magnificent job of capturing the passing of the generational torch, how it goes by seemingly in an instant, and how things generally turn out OK despite your worries and self doubts.


Then I read the Wikipedia entry on "Cats in the Cradle." While Harry wrote the music, the lyrics were written not by him, but by his wife. And not only that, she wrote them about her first husband, who was a New York City politician, a self-absorbed absentee father.

While the melody of the song lead one to believe it's a wistful look back at a father and son's shared memories, it's actually a stinging "Idiot Wind"-like indictment of a father in title only, more interested in furthering his career than being around for baby's first step. When both have gotten much older and the father is ready to reconcile with the son, it is now the son who can't be bothered to get together. The cycle of psycological abuse and selfishness has been passed on. "My boy was just like me" indeed.

So scratch "Cats in the Cradle." A more accurate and touching celebration of fatherhood is Paul Simon's "Father and Daughter." This track from 2003 was used in the animated film The Wild Thornburys but has implications and applications far beyond that film.

If you ever leap awake
In the mirror of a bad dream
And for a fraction of a second
You can't remember where you are
Just open your window
And follow your memory upstream
To the meadow in the mountain
Where we counted every falling star

I believe the light that shines on you
Will shine on you forever
And though I can't guarantee
There's nothing scary hiding under your bed
I’m gonna stand guard
Like a postcard of a Golden Retriever
And never leave till I leave you
With a sweet dream in your head

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you

Trust your intuition
It's just like going fishing
You cast your line
And hope you'll get a bite
But you don't need to waste your time
Worrying about the market place
Try to help the human race
Struggling to survive its harshest night

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you


Happy Father's Day! Now put the US Open on the flat screen, put your feet up and tell your kid to grab you a beer.