music without ideology

Stake in Identity

I’m a white woman, I’m a black man
I signed the U.S. Constitution with my quill
I’m a French farmer, I’m a Dutch dwarf
I’m the best ice-hockey player in Brazil
When I say ‘I,’ it’s rarely me
I don’t have a stake in identity
I’m a firewalker, I’m a ribbon clerk
I’m a virgin whore who can’t get out of bed
I’m a Roman god, I’m a Grecian urn
I’m a dog who’s trying real hard not to shed
When I say ‘I,’ don’t think it’s me
Don’t have such a stake in identity

© Thomas Johnson


Thuggish Presence

Throughout the space they cede to him lies his power
Watch him survey his cheerful slaves from his tower
In his world
Force equals mass only
And what gives me a start is the cynical heart of his thuggish presence
They buy freedom from fear with the pain of others
His daily food and drink are the hopes he smothers
Some he drafts
But most volunteer
And, alas, now my mind is completely entwined with his thuggish presence

© Thomas Johnson


Jesus Christ

The street lights flicker on and off
The moth-eaten stop sign
The hookers wrestle in the street at Broadway and Vine
The nearby bar is crowded
The patrons sit in line
One or two order water
The others order wine
Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ
One more sermon would sound nice
Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ
On the floor lies wedding rice
Left there by Jesus Christ
The clicking of the classroom clock
The chalkboard with its rules
The students and the teachers play each other for fools
It’s easy to be cynical
It’s harder to be strong
But optimists and pessimists are equally wrong
Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ
For his garments they threw dice
Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ
Wants us all to be born twice
The word of Jesus Christ
The oceans rise and narrow
The mail without a stamp
The readers wait for someone to light the lamp
Meanwhile, in the museum, the silence fades away
And what comes to replace it, no one can say
Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ
Men keep trying to fix a price
Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ
Is it fire? Is it ice? Or is it Jesus Christ?

© Thomas Johnson


Raskolnikov Unbound

There is no such thing as a lost cause
There is no such thing as a gained cause
One old man sipping whiskey says the fireworks start at noon
Another’s driving golf balls from the top of a balloon
One young man checks his math so that the bombs go off on time
Another sets in type the words that justify the crime
Fear not the ground-rule double helix
It’s all around
But fear the tearing of the pages
That is the sound
Of Raskolnikov unbound
There is no such thing as a lost cause
There is no such thing as a gained cause
My roommate sophomore year tells me he plans to sail to Greece
To ask the gods if kissing is more tension than release
My roommate senior year tells me he won’t go out at night
They’ve broken all the bulbs and now his street’s bereft of light
Fear not the armies of Atlantis
It seems they’ve drowned
But fear the multiplying clauses
That are the sound
Of Raskolnikov unbound

© Thomas Johnson


Macho

Turn your head but don’t cough
Current down the wire
Means an unusually good liar
He strains against the fabric
He’s counting down from three
I’m finished, but he’s not finished with me
He’s macho
He’s macho
Oh, he’s macho
Hail the conquering hero
Dressed to his left side
It serves to illuminate the ride
Magnetized inferno
She looks set to go
Disinter the undertow
He’s macho…
At the very second
He starts feeling bored
He leaves, his monarchy restored
He strains against the fabric
He’s counting down from three
He’s finished, but he’s not finished with me
He’s macho…

© Thomas Johnson


Marine Life

Up in Barrow, Alaska, a whaler named Zeb
Caught an orca and named it Juan
Then he towed it all the way to Biscayne Bay
Where he set it down near his front lawn
Now Juan would like to go home…
Seven miles off Miami, a sportsman named Fred
Caught a marlin and named it John
Which he had flown all the way to Prudhoe Bay
The waves of which crash on his front lawn
Now John would like to go home…
Both the fish and the fishlike have been displaced
From the waters for which they long
If you can’t go all the way to either bay
You can still visit them in this song
But they would like to go home…
And we would like to go home…

© Thomas Johnson


California Angel

Out on the beaches of Carmel
You’ve got your knapsack and your shell
Your parents say that they don’t know
Why you would choose to let them go
One’s in Bel-Air, one’s in Van Nuys
And yet your flight was a surprise
As sure as statues attract birds
Words didn’t fail them, they failed words
California angel in the sun
That winds up destroying everyone
When it was time to leave you didn’t hesitate
California angel, never late
Your dad’s new girlfriend’s twenty-two
That’s just five years older than you
Your mom watched as the spirits danced
And now her aura is enhanced
Can’t you hear them calling you back home?
Can’t you hear them calling you back home?
You may not go, but if you do
They both will be so proud of you
California angel, come to rest
Young and rootless daughter of the west
You need to understand that there’s no more frontier
California angel, coast is clear

© Thomas Johnson


And What’s Worse

1 p.m.
You don’t remember which drug
Left you prone
Your right cheek pressed to the rug
You don’t care that the sun just came out
Nothing makes you laugh, cry, sing, or shout
And what’s worse
Is that you’ve come to like it
Picnic tables
Stacked for the winter
Don’t touch them
Or you might get a splinter
Blowing the DJ during his set
As sick as you are, you’re not dead yet
But what’s worse
Is you don’t see the difference

© Thomas Johnson


Retreat

Five weeks now since I got the news
You’d walked on me with my own shoes
My voice condemns your cruelty
And all the instruments agree
The methods that you used on me
Your Soviet psychiatry
But were you just playing a role?
Or did you really rent your soul?
The issue’s neither now nor then
The rubric reads ‘what might have been’
The unicorns that missed the ark
The rained-out picnic in the park
God bless the good who died reviled
And God bless Buddy Holly’s child
Bless the works of Simone Weil
Bless what she did not live to say

© Thomas Johnson


The Bridge

She and I stopped halfway across the bridge
I recall that much
The rust fell from the railing to the rocks
I recall that much
We listened as the clouded moon
Fashioned a distant tidal tune
And as the wind danced on the dune
We held each other
Night passes; we spend time
In an attempt to save a temporary rhyme
Day offers precious jewels
With hardly a thought paid to the workers and their tools
Sometimes you climb and climb and then you fall
I recall that much
She’s happy now; I saw her just last spring
I recall that much
That and the night the clouded moon
Fashioned a distant tidal tune
And as the wind danced on the dune
We held each other…

© Thomas Johnson


Happy Ending

Happy ending
Where will you be at the end of my dream?
Happy ending
Where will you be when things are what they seem?
They shout from inside their black stretch Hummer
Late in that Finzi-Contini summer
Where are they going?
Happy ending
Where will you be at the end of my dream?
Happy ending
Where will you be when things are what they seem?
Brushing away the ash from the burnt rose
I won’t tell them when they ask where time goes
Where is it going?

© Thomas Johnson


Not included on album:

Newport Beach

I’m going down to Newport Beach
Where nothing is ever out of reach
Outrageous people, outrageous things
Can’t wait to see what the next wave brings
Where
Nobody stares
Nobody cares
Nobody turns around and
Nothing’s too, nothing’s too, nothing’s too, nothing’s too
I’m going down there on the fly
This is probably the last time I’ll be dry
They don’t pause or wonder why
Their intensity level’s set on high
Where…
I’m going down to Newport Beach
Where nothing is ever out of reach
Find me a girl who knows what to say
None of this disagreeing all day
Where…

© Thomas Johnson

No news right now.

I released my first album, Oakland Avenue, in February 2005. The track listing:

1) Stake in Identity 1:40
2) Thuggish Presence 3:03
3) Jesus Christ 4:50
4) Raskolnikov Unbound 3:15
5) Macho 3:32
6) Marine Life 2:33
7) California Angel 4:02
8) And What’s Worse 2:03
9) Retreat 3:35
10) The Bridge 2:50
11) Happy Ending 2:52

It's available for roughly $10 at the Borders in Fox Point (8705 N. Port Washington Rd.) and at two stores on Milwaukee's east side: Atomic Records, on Locust just east of Oakland, and the Exclusive Company, on Farwell just south of Brady. You also may order it by mail; just send a check for $10 to me at 6040 N. Kent, Milwaukee, WI 53217.

Stake in Identity
A simple, if surreal, statement of the artist’s prerogatives. Several decades of political, sociological, and cultural Balkanization made it necessary. This is the most musically undistinguished track on the album and as such an unusual choice for an opener, but since it’s a theme song of sorts I really had no choice but to begin with it.

Thuggish Presence
Reggae, it’s said, is a music of the oppressed, yet this reggae number suggests that people can be complicit in their own oppression. Feel free to revel in both that paradox and Rob Pritzlaff’s fiery guitar work.

Jesus Christ
The line about optimists and pessimists is anti-ideological, not empirical. In any event, as I’m hardly the first to point out, both optimism and pessimism are irrelevant to realism.

Raskolnikov Unbound
Evil is no more common today than it’s ever been, but excuses for it probably are.

Macho
What do women want? It varies, but quite a few of them (about 37 percent, according to one recent poll) still want a guy like this.

Marine Life
An allegory, absurdist but not absurd.

California Angel
The result of exposure to certain southern Californians during my first semester at the University of Arizona. I made it up, but it’s a true story.

And What’s Worse
Another made-up true story, except that the picnic tables are real. I saw them on New Year’s Day 2004, the day I started writing the song.

Retreat
I had in mind a Dylan fusion, specifically a John Wesley Harding-style arrangement to go with the Blood on the Tracks-style lyrics. Rob made the song’s latent anger far less latent. It now sounds like Dylan backed by the Who.

The Bridge
Not the same woman.

Happy Ending
A post-September 11 reverie. I like to imagine a DJ segueing from this into Only Time. I also imagine setting some my-man-done-me-wrong lyrics to this melody and submitting it to Etta James.

Future

None scheduled.

Past

2004
June 2 Linneman's
October 16 Bremen Cafe
December 7 Art Bar

2005
March 4 Mirabar
April 15 The Coffee House
June 15 Cafe Brucke