Winter Song by Nico

Winter Song by Nico.  Most of the people I know, from Texas to Pennsylvania and beyond, are in a deep freeze.  The period between New Years and spring is the hardest part of the year as far as I’m concerned.  Even the great Hunter Thompson could not survive this season as he titled his suicide letter, “Football Season is Over.”  I’ve never really taken to winter, either to its sports or its color scheme.  However, there is a strange and dark poetry, a certain kind of magic, that winter can bestow, that I would be a fool to deny.  This song, from Nico’s timeless Chelsea Girl album, is a prime example:

Winter Song

The snow on your eyelids that curtsy with age
Is freezing the stares on tyranny’s wings.
The bitter is hard and the warmth of your skin
Is diseased with familiar caresses.

Withdrawing from splendor and royal decay
Among all the triumphs and jaded awards
The angry and blazing circus of sun
Blasphemes as the crown prince arises.

You cannot beget all the sins that you owe
To the people of paradise magic
Pretend to answer passion and form
With foreign rationalizations.

Primroses are the jewels that lurk
Among masks of pleasure that flicker with doubt
Embraces of fame that’s simultaneously fear
To advance and demand to be recognized.

The river shall flow through hollow green faces
Of caricature’s resentment etched out of the tongues.
Both reluctant princess asleep before birth
The classical sensitive failures.

The worshipping wicked cling to the dark of your heart
Lying there and wait with your angels
Moan and ravish from dawn to dusk
The avaricious young lovers.

Love Will Tear Us Apart Video

Today the weather in Austin is less than ideal.  There is a “slate grey Victorian sky” as Morrissey sang.  Certain music fits different weather patterns better than others.  A place as grey and rainy as Manchester seems to produce a lot of music that works well with dismal weather.  I wonder if there has ever been a study on how weather affects music?  I need to burn off to rehearsal, but in the meantime I thought I would leave you with some Joy Division.

On a Downcast Sunday Morning

I went looking for a park
But all I found was the ghetto
Buildings that looked like London after the Blitz
A woman with a face so hard
It looked like it was chipped into form by years of harsh winds
A slate gray sky hovers over
Puddles filled with trash
Rain comes straight down
Making it impossible to avoid
I felt beaten by the elements
Was I out on some vicious sea?
Yet despite all of this
A country’s flag flew high and mighty
National pride is a strange thing
I saw and felt all this
On a downcast Sunday morning

Winnipeg, July 13th 2014.