Why I Heart Supertramp

It has been a while since I have had the time to sit down and write...though my lack of free time to devote to this hasn't been a bad thing.  I've spent the last month or so writing more music, focusing on time with family, getting acquainted with my roomie, and making up for lost time.  Today, my son requested a very special song that is near and dear to me:  "Breakfast in America" by Supertramp.

I get heckled when most people hear that I am a big fan of Supertramp.  "Are you serious?"

     Yes.  Yes I am.  Very much.

     "Why?"
     I am so glad you asked.

Let us first distinguish the listeners from the listeners.

Most people listen to music.  They bob their heads along thinking about what lies in the day ahead...paying little to no mind about what the artist is actually trying to convey.  Then there are those that listen.  One of the most amazing things about music is decoding what message lies within.  Not only decoding the message, as it applies to its author, but as it applies to each listener...all the while with the understanding that the message translated by one, will not necessarily be the same message translated by the next. 

The thing that amazes me about Supertramp is the fact that many of their melodies aren't theoretically supportive of their lyrics.  In addition to the fact that they wrote about history, philosophy, and real-world topics that most pop bands at the time wouldn't touch.

Goodbye Stranger:  Basically about not being ready to settle, but having fun settling in for just one night.  Who could sing a song in which it's basis is surrounding the beauty of the one night stand??  Supertramp.

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn

And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on

Like a king without a castle

Like a queen without a throne

I'm an early morning lover

And I must be moving on

Now I believe in what you say

Is the undisputed truth

But I have to have things my own way

To keep me in my youth

Like a ship without an anchor

Like a slave without a chain

Just the thought of those sweet ladies

Sends a shiver through my veins

And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I'll never look behind me

My troubles will be few

Goodbye stranger it's been nice

Hope you find your paradise

Tried to see your point of view

Hope your dreams will all come true

Goodbye Mary, Goodbye Jane

Will we ever meet again

Feel no sorrow, feel no shame

Come tomorrow, feel no pain

Now some they do and some they don't

And some you just can't tell

And some they will and some they won't

With some it's just as well

You can laugh at my behavior

That'll never bother me

Say the devil is my savior

But I don't pay no heed

And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I'll never look behind me

My troubles will be few

Goodbye stranger it's been nice etc...

Casual Conversations:  A dead-end relationship, barely hanging on...the melody of this tune sounds like a perfect song for a stroll in the park on a Sunday.

It doesn't matter what I say

You never listen anyway

Just don't know what you're looking for

Imagination's all I have

But ever then you say it's bad

Just can't see why we disagree

Casual conversations how they bore me

They go on and on endlessly

But no matter what I say

You ignore me anyway

I might as well talk in my sleep (I could weep)

You try to make me feel so small

Until there's nothing left at all

Why go on? Just hoping that we'll get along

There's no communication left between us

But is it me or you who's to blame?

There's nothing I can do, yes you're fading out of view

Don't know if I feel joy or pain

And now it's all been said

If you must leave then go ahead

Should feel sad

But I really believe that I'm glad

Yes I really believe that I'm glad

Take the Long Way Home:  A man taking the long way home because he can't stand his marriage anymore.  A position 75% of us have likely experienced at one point or another...yet this song sounds so magical and uplifting.

So you think you're a Romeo

playing a part in a picture-show

Take the long way home

Take the long way home

Cos you're the joke of the neighborhood

Why should you care if you're feeling good

Take the long way home

Take the long way home

But there are times that you feel you're part of the scenery

all the greenery is comin' down, boy

And then your wife seems to think you're part of the

furniture oh, it's peculiar, she used to be so nice.

When lonely days turn to lonely nights

you take a trip to the city lights

And take the long way home

Take the long way home

You never see what you want to see

Forever playing to the gallery

You take the long way home

Take the long way home

And when you're up on the stage, it's so unbelievable,

unforgettable, how they adore you,

But then your wife seems to think you're losing your sanity,

oh, calamity, is there no way out?

Does it feel that you life's become a catastrophe?

Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy.

When you look through the years and see what you could

have been oh, what might have been,

if you'd had more time.

So, when the day comes to settle down,

Who's to blame if you're not around?

You took the long way home

You took the long way home...........

I wanted a better understanding of the group and their roots.  Apparently, the band chose their name after a book that was published in 1908 by William Henry Davies called "Autobiography of a Supertramp."  A 'tramp' is a person who travels on foot from place to place, especially a vagabond living on occasional Jobs or gifts of money or food.  Given the frequent rotation of band members, I'd say the title was much appropriate.  I ordered the book, and it was a great depiction of early life in the United States just before the railway industry lit up.  

Though many of the songs suggest reality; the melody and Davies'/Hodgson's soprano-esque vocals start any day like no other.  They casually remind us that life isn't perfect, however living any life at all is reason enough to relish in the upbeat of the opportunity in which it brings.

I Heart Supertramp.

A Provoked and Disturbed Intellect, c. 2011

I visited the DIA with my friend Lee today.  Pretty amazing to submerge yourself into the intellect of our world, which hardly seems worth mentioning when I compare it to the day to day drab of ho-hum suburbia.  I took note to research several pieces in depth upon my return home; only to find that the true analysis behind the pieces were nothing as I had imagined.

Cupid & Psyche, c. 1710/1720
Giovanni Battista Foggini

I took a keen personal interest in this piece.  The story that birthed the tale Beauty and the Beast...only there really was no Beast.  I digress...Psyche only wanted to see Cupid for what he really was.  When she did, he left her.  They got back together once she made all of these personal sacrifices...in addition to giving away a portion of her beauty.  The more I become familiar with this great tale, the more I find a commonality in comparison to relationships today.  All seriousness aside, the representation in this piece doesn't exactly offer up what I would consider to be a match made in heaven.  My god, is she bedding her nephew?  Sorry if I've offended you Foggini.  Your brilliance shines from the folds in the fabric.

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Concert in a Garden, c. 1750
Filipo Falciatore

This piece is by far the most interesting we ran across that day (in my humble opinion).  The Concert in the Garden shows exactly that; a concert in a garden.  We found it especially interesting that while society's charmers were fanning away in the sun, singing songs of fancy...three people in the painting appear to be middle class:  the woman holding her baby on the balcony (Michael Jackson style), the peasant at work, and the man in upperclass clothing revealing a look of what appears to be disgust.  We had some conversation as to what this man was so disgusted about and agreed that he was simply agitated by the fact that those surrounding him have very little knowledge of what its like to put in a hard day's work.  How it must be nice to appreciate only the finest things in life and act as if your experience might have contributed to the pomegranate juice that took eight weeks to produce.  It sure is comforting to know that the economical/political divide that exists today was present from the beginning.  I digress...this blog just wouldn't be the same without an injection of humor.   What else could this man possibly be thinking?  Here are a few thoughts that come to mind:

• "I cannot believe that bitch stood me up last night"
• "I could really use that cane, my back is killing me!"
• "This isn't a concert, it's a bloody picnic!"
• "Bitches be crazy"
• "Its getting hot in here, lets take off all our clothes..."

I've said my peace.

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I've included my favorite painting of all time, for good measure.

The Kiss, c. 1907/1908
Gustav Klimt

*Disclaimer:  The opinions and ideas expressed above in no way represent the opinions or ideas of the DIA, the artists, or any person who is otherwise compensated, or not, for reviewing artistic works of high regard.

Close Encounters of the Male Kind: Excerpt from Chapter 2

Close Encounters of the Male Kind

Excerpt from Chapter Two

“The Crush”

          How I wish I could forget my early days of high school. How I wish I could forget the one person that could pierce my heart with just a single glance in my direction. One glance would hold me over for weeks, and to this day, I remember exactly what I was wearing the one time he told me I looked nice. I sincerely hope I am not the only delusional soul that has had an experience like this in their younger years, especially since I’m putting it out here for the world to see. In the event that I am the only delusional soul with this ‘issue’ – well, the one psychiatrist that is reading…this is where you can step in.
          I had a brief encounter with this man in my early teen years. He was popular. I was not. He was adorable. I was not. He was cruel at times, and I was not. His shoes were always so white, piercing eyes, broad shoulders, a button nose if I ever really saw one, and the most incredible bubble butt I have ever seen on a man’s figure. I really don’t know what magnetic force field propelled me to this man, time and time again…but it did. I have witnessed him being cruel, unkind, selfish, inconsiderate, and masterfully manipulative; yet I still pined for him. Why is this? I made it to second base with this guy and we never talked after that. I got grounded for nearly three weeks for that little escapade (the punishment was worth every minute).
          Low and behold, out of the blue, over twelve years later…he contacts me…on Myspace; Myspace. To those of us who first design a page, a delight. To those of us who move on to a more productive means of networking, perhaps face to face communications…just a small stepping stone. To those of us where Myspace serves as a link between you and your biggest crush ever…the best advancement in internet technology since dial up jumped to broadband.
          First, it started as catching up. Then, we moved onto instant messaging. Then the texting began. Next thing you know, I’m hanging out with him at the local watering hole. He dragged me out to the parking lot to listen to his latest and greatest mix. I remember being really impressed by his liking for Stevie Wonder.  We Have So Much in Common!  Blinded by the crush-o-meter with this man, I neglected to consider the number of Stevie Wonder fans in the world. I neglected to consider the fact that the man was a twenty five Grammy award winner or that he had produced nearly two hundred number one hits. Who the f* doesn’t like Stevie Wonder? He handed me a best of best mix, that I still listen to today. I neglected to consider the other twelve girls posting, “Thanks so much for your mix, I love it and listen to it every day!” (Probably while they’re pooping!)
          The last encounter I had with him, I vowed to never involve myself with him again. There were so many brief moments where this inner person would peep out and say or do something so genuine, so sweet and thoughtful. So out of character, and I think it was this that kept me going back. I think it was the commonality we shared at that point in our lives. I think this commonality we shared provided us both brief glimpses of comfort. I’ve always known deep down that if I had ever had the opportunity to be with this person, that I most likely wouldn’t be interested. I’m not walking blind. I know exactly what sits in front of me. How you say? Wash, rinse, and repeat. What sits in front of me is not going to measure up to my ‘crush’ – and no one will because seventy five percent of this ‘idea’ was a complete fabrication stemming from hot horny teenage dreams - not even close to the harsh reality I had received over, and over, and over again while pining for this guy. I’m not even his type (thankfully so), and as painful as it is for me to say this aloud, I really don’t think that he’s mine.
          This is what I mean about realization. I have a hard time not being over-skeptical – but people…you have to be a little skeptical. Look at the reality of the situation. The reality of my situation with this guy is that we were both lonely. It is that simple. Now you go and be simple. Don’t let illusions or false expectations support a disappointment. It took me a long time to realize this…but I’m happy with the outcome. After all is said and done…he will always be a friend (even if the guy has made me feel like crap, several times warmed over).
          I digress...it was me making myself feel like crap several times warmed over. I did this by not feeling confident and by letting stupid trivial things overwhelm my judgment. I am smart. I am beautiful. I am talented. I am funny, successful, ambitious, caring, devoted, and a wonderful mother. If you’ve been in the field for as long as I have, you will come to find that there aren’t many people that can measure up to all of that. So, back to approaching this from a different angle; no longer will I be, “Bitter, party of one!”  Que Sera, Sera...whatever will be will be.  I do know one thing for certain...if someone isn't treating you with equal respect, they aren't worth your time.  There are plenty more fish in the sea, and it is so sad...so very, very, sad...that most of them are liable to be chapters in this book.

What's Your Nationality?

Errr...I said something stupid.

I recently asked someone what their nationality was and made some comments as to support personality characteristics being a result of it.  Shortly thereafter I realized what a moronic assumption this was.  I'm Sicilian, mixed with a bit of German, and a dash of French.  Throughout my life, I've heard, "Sicilian and German?  Geez, you must be a brute little force...", or, "Temper, temper, temper...no wonder where she gets it from...".  After giving it some thought, I vow to never to make an unfledged statement like this again, and here is why:


I'm not going to deny the fact that I have a bit of a temper, or that I happen to be a brute little force to reckon with if someone crosses me.  However, I think very little of this has to do with my nationality.  Furthermore, characteristics of a society couldn't possibly affect me to this magnitude given the fact that I was neither born in Sicily, nor have I ever visited Europe in my life (not saying I wouldn't like to).  One might say that the cultures and traits associated with my nationality have moved through generations, whereby affecting the result of my personality.  However, I had zero influence from he who had passed on the German/French blood.  And the environment I was exposed to growing up included the likes of Scotland too.


Now, throw in the characteristics found in America as a people; and those are a lot of variables to support a pre-conceived theory as to what makes me, me.  In the end, personal experience holds more weight as it pertains to characteristics of a person.  So, I'm just throwing this out there...don't be one of those morons (like me the other day) who makes a statement to suggest that anyone's nationality holds weight as to, for example, how arrogant or chauvanist they may be.  It is more likely that experience has made them this way...or they might just be an asshole because they like to be.  Who knows?

Embrace the individuality.

Flag of Nina



The End.