World Peace
Dan Alford
2003-03-25
As always keep in touch with comments, contributions or suggestions. Also, keep an eye open for Audio Files B&P offers on the Jambands.com Tape Trade Board. An offer for recent Soulive shns was made last month and a new offer will be up soon. Thoughts: With the grim state of affairs in the world, largely due to our own war mongering, I want o skip the music reviews this month and share a poem by Pablo Neruda. Of course, music can also be a healing force, so put on some Bob Marley (10-31-73), or Sector 9, or Garaj Mahal (who have a number of songs of protest including World Peace and Weapons of Mass Destruction) and help send out some healing vibrations. Quick Picks From the Disc Changer: Phish, 2-21-03, Disc 1- DWD Phish, 2-22-0, Disc 1- Piper > Groove, smooth as ice Garaj Mahal, 8-10-02- Berkfest set, best set of the weekend Grateful Dead, Dick's Picks 26, Disc 2- A long time favorite; psychedelic 69 at its finest Eric Krasno and Friends, 3-5-00, Disc 1- more on this next month Discman: Sector 9, 2-18-03, Disc 1- Excellent quality recording. Just popped it in. Music: Ode to the Chair By Pablo Neruda One chair, alone in the jungle. In the vines' tight grip a sacred tree groans. Other vines spiral skyward, bloodspattered creatures howl deep within the shadows, giant leaves drop from the green sky. A snake shakes the dry rattles on its tail, a bird flashes through the foliage like an arrow aimed at a flag while the branches shoulder their violins. Squatting on their flowers insects pray without stirring. Our feet sink in the black weeds of the jungle sea, in clouds fallen from the forest canopy, and all I ask for the foreigner, for the despairing scout, is a seat in the sitting tree, a throne of unkempt velvet, the plush of an overstuffed chair torn up by the snaking vines- yes: for the man who goes on foot, a chair that embraces everything, the sound ground and supreme dignity of repose! Get behind me, thirsty tigers and swarms of bloodsucking flies- behind me, black morass of ghostly fronds, greasy waters, leaves the color of rust, deathless snakes. Bring me a chair in the midst of thunder, a chair for me and for everyone not only to relieve an exhausted body but for every purpose and for every person, for squandered strength and for meditation. War is as vast as the shadowy jungle. A single chair is the first sign of peace.
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