tdaxp

Death Cab for Cutie. 2005. Someday you will be loved. Plans. Lyrics available.

Sons are important. Songs are about human conflict, meaningful struggle, and often even love. Not just lust -- the mad desire for a thing -- but love -- the longing to provide goods to another that cannot be denied by anyone.

Earlier, I highlighted four songs by Guerrillas (19-2000, Clint Eastwood, Dare, and Feel Good, Inc.). Today I want to look at Someday You Will Be Loved, by Death Cab for Cutie.

"Soemday you will be loved" is about abandoning love, about the limits of what humans can give. As the Iraq War winds down, its lesson about love abandoned applies to the population who will love any hope of real love if we leave: Iraq's Sunni Arabs. For more than a year, prolonging the war has only bought them time. But for years, Sunni Arab culture, inspired by its Naser-Arafat habit of doing exactly the wrong thing, has aggravated the situation.

We will leave Iraq. There will ethnic cleansing. The Sunni Arabs will not experience love in our generation, or perhaps our lifetime. But as the global economy continues to expand, and as the Afro-Islamic Gap is eventually shrunked, someday they will be loved.

For several months, perhaps a year, Bush had a chance of bringing a government to Iraq that would reasonably represent all of her citizens. However, the violent incompetence of two men: Abu Musab Zarqawi and George Walker Bush, made that impossible. The dreams of 2003 are the dreams of the past.

"One Great City!," by The Weakerthans, Reconstruction Site, 26 August 2003, http://www.theweakerthans.org/lyrics/reconstructionsite/11onegreatcity.html [buy the cd].

Mad props to M for burning this on a mix CD.

Late afternoon, another day is nearly done
A darker grey is breaking through a lighter one
A thousand sharpened elbows in the underground
That hollow hurried sound of feet on polished floor
And in the dollar store, the clerk is closing up
And counting loonies trying not to say

I hate Winnipeg

The driver checks the mirror seven minutes late
The crowded riders' restlessness enunciates
The Guess Who sucked, the Jets were lousy anyway
The same route everyday
And in the turning lane
Someone’s stalled again
He’s talking to himself
And hears the price of gas repeat his phrase

I hate Winnipeg

And up above us all
Leaning into sky
Our golden business boy
Will watch the North End die
And sing, “I love this town”
Then let his arcing wrecking ball proclaim

I
Hate
Winnipeg