Wall of Death

That’s a song from Richard and Linda Thompson’s last album together – Shoot Out the Lights.

This was a break-up album.

Linda eventually told Rolling Stone, “It was kind of a subliminal thing. I think we both were miserable and didn’t quite know how to get it out. I think that’s why the album is so good. We couldn’t talk to each other, so we just did it on the record.” (source)

Wall of Death – I expected the lyrics to be all dark, Nietzschean even – but no. The Wall of Death is about a carnival ride. Thompson used it as a metaphor for relationships that hit the rocks and founder and shit.

The marriage may get dodgy at times but you hooked up for a good damn reason. PLUS, nothing lasts forever.

My mother was wickedly afraid I'd be hurt, when Stan and I moved in together. Damn straight I was but you can’t take the full, fun, crazy, wild ride if you don’t get on board.

I was ripped to shreds, utterly devastated when The Amazing Bob died but I'd hook up with him again in less than a goddamn heartbeat. You can't win if you don't play, as we used to call back in my carnie days.

Let me ride on the Wall O Death one more time
Let me ride on the Wall Of Death one more time
You can waste your time on the other rides
This is the nearest to being alive
Oh let me take my chances on the Wall Of Death

OK, now that I think on it – the lyrics DO seem pretty Nietzschean. Ya know, Nietzsche’s the dude who said

That which does not kill us makes us stronger. (Basically no pain, no gain)

and, amongst myriad other thoughts,

There are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth. The true man wants two things: danger and play. for that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything. (Wall of Death and all that)

Back in my hearing days, I rarely paid attention to lyrics. Warum?  I was ALL about the composition, the instrumentation, verve, passion, the whole vie en rose. They told the story – words seemed superfluous. I could swim through life on tales told by Thompson, Hendrix and Kotke’s respective bodacious guitars, Cale’s viola, Brecker’s sax, Miles’s trumpet, Gould and Reznor’s pianos (I could go on and on and on).

Nietzsche also said: without music, life would be a mistake.

For as much as music has always been fully half of my very being (the visual arts being the other half…duh) I most def do NOT, now that I’m sans ear action, see life – specifically MY life – as a mistake.

When Ten returns from way out west, if the clubs are open again, if concerts happen, we’ll go out and find some damn tune-age that I can feel.

Where is Ten now, by the by? South Dakota. At the rate he’s going, he may be back in Bend as early as tomorrow night.

Back when Concussion Ensemble was a happening band, I would get ALL supremely stoked in anticipation of their performance. I was a Concussion Ensemble evangelist, badgering all my chums and studio mates into going with me. I had hearing back then but still, this was a band whose tune-age I could feel resonating in my sternum. Every damn composition they played was a universe in which I could ecstatically dwell.

Forever.

TRUTH!