Monday, February 09, 2009

Our Phoenix and their Eagles.

We all remember the days (end of the seventies) when every single local band in order to prove it prowess felt obliged to play “sultans of swing” and “hotel California” the best they knew how. We all sat applauding and enjoying those minutes passed regardless of how out of tune the band was. It was nothing more than (at that time) an escape route from the path of “self” destruction that still prevails today. From Samy Clark, Guss Farah, Dany Labaki, Julia Sadaka singing Grace Slick … to the Electric Warriors; such was our only “défoulement “. After a day of dodging sniper bullets, mortar fire, and a night of heavy drinking and celebrating being still alive; another morning dawns. Another morning creeps upon you with much less promises than the day before, which you tried your best to drown in alcohol. I remember crossing the “ring” (in 1981) while listening to “the last resort”. I did manage to get to my destination with 3 bullet holes in my car.
This song is forever engraved in my mind; engraved with a sweet/bitter memory.

She came from Providence,
the one in Rhode Island
Where the old world shadows hang
heavy in the air
She packed her hopes and dreams
like a refugee
Just as her father came across the sea
She heard about a place people were smilin'
They spoke about the red man's way,
and how they loved the land
And they came from everywhere
to the Great Divide
Seeking a place to stand
or a place to hide

Down in the crowded bars,
out for a good time,
Can't wait to tell you all,
what it's like up there
And they called it paradise
I don't know why
Somebody laid the mountains low
while the town got high

Then the chilly winds blew down
Across the desert
through the canyons of the coast, to
the Malibu
Where the pretty people play,
hungry for power
to light their neon way
and give them things to do

Some rich men came and raped the land,
Nobody caught 'em
Put up a bunch of ugly boxes, and Jesus,
people bought 'em
And they called it paradise
The place to be
They watched the hazy sun, sinking in the sea

You can leave it all behind
and sail to Lahaina
just like the missionaries did, so many years ago
They even brought a neon sign: "Jesus is coming"
Brought the white man's burden down
Brought the white man's reign

Who will provide the grand design?
What is yours and what is mine?
'Cause there is no more new frontier
We have got to make it here

We satisfy our endless needs and
justify our bloody deeds,
in the name of destiny and the name of God

And you can see them there,
On Sunday morning
They stand up and sing about
what it's like up there
They call it paradise
I don't know why
You call someplace paradise,
kiss it goodbye


Anonymous said...

salut marillion

je suis touché par ton billet sur ces années noires. Tu es plus agé que moi, et en 81 je n'avais que 6 ans.
Reste que personne n'a vraiment cherché à raconter réellement ce qui s'est passé. Nous envisageons avec Ekios de mettre au point un système de création d'histoire, sur le modèle de wikipedia, maiq pour l"histoire du Liban. Serait-tu d'accord pour y participer?
Tous les points de vue sont les bienvenus, y compris ceux de taf ou de quicoque le souhaiterait.

Marillionlb said...

I am game, but a word of warning, some of the stories I have might be hard to digest to some.

Anonymous said...

truth is sometimes hard to digest.
but it is our only way out of the cycle of hatred and revenge. Just Truth, the RAW truth.