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III: English
"Once I know what the first page is, the rest will come"
Selections from William Bolcom's Cabaret Songs
My sister, Elsa, sang a set of Bolcom's Cabaret Songs at her senior recital, and ever since hearing them then, I was enamored with them. The songs have the attitude of surrealist showtunes, but sound best when sung with a classical flair. These songs live in the middle of various styles, and tell stories that live in the middle of reality and fantasy. William Bolcom is a contemporary composer, and wrote these pieces between the later sixties and the nineties. He collaborated with American poet Arnold Weinstein, who, a man who was born and died in New York City, referred to himself as a "theater poet". Though the collection has its own order, I decided to draw my five favorite pieces and make my own order out of them. I adore them all, and I hope you will too.
I: Murray the Furrier (Fur)
This piece begins the set with a sense of hope. When we start new journeys in life, we tend to first look to people who've inspired us and try to follow in their footsteps, at least, I know I have. This character tends to look up to her uncle Murray the Furrier.
My uncle Murray the Furrier
was a big worrier
But he's no hurrier now, not today!
He's good and retired now,
Didn't get fired, now,
Fulfills his desires on half of his pay!
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He eats in the best of dives,
Although he dines alone,
He buried two wonderful wives,
And he still has the princess phone!
It's the best of all possible lives,
Owning all the he owns on his own!
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You see, he never took off a lot,
And used to cough a lot,
Fur in his craw from hot days in the store.
Worked his way up to the top,
Was the steward of the shop,
Has a son who is a cop, and he is free!
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II: Places to Live
My uncle Murray the retiree
loves this democracy,
and says it very emphatically!
He lives where he wishes,
When he wants, does the dishes,
Eats greasy knishes, yessiree!
He is free!
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No guilt, no ghost,
No gift for no host,
He goes coast to coast coughing.
My uncle Murray the Furrier, no! No worrier he!
text. Arnold Weinstein
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Once we start our journeys, the world can seem like a great big open book. It feels like we wish to go everywhere and do everything! For this character, the world is her oyster, and there's nothing that can stop her from being as absurd as she wishes!
Places to live, give me places to live,
Wonders to wander to, places to live!
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My feet are dreaming of new dust, new dirt!
My hips want to swing in a cellophane skirt!
Give me my change in a celluloid note,
While I buy wooden hats from the factory boat!
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Places to live, give me places to live,
Wonders to wander to, places to live!
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My tonsils are longing to hum a new tune,
I'm dying to dance by the dark of the moon
With mustachioed mounties in deep purple kilts,
And me in blue velvet on flaming red stilts!
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Places to live, give me places to live,
Wonders to wander to, places to live!
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My soul is keening for new forms of faith,
I need a new God more than Henry the Eighth,
To take off my feathers and give me release,
And I'll kneel in the sand,
And I'll drown my valise!
text. Arnold Weinstein
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III: Toothbrush Time
This song is about having too much fun, to the point at which you start to lose yourself in the humdrum of it all. What used to be exciting and new is now a mindless and depressing routine. Waking up every morning at toothbrush time the same exact way.
It's toothbrush time, ten A.M. again, and toothbrush time.
Last night at half past nine, it seemed O.K.
But in the light of day, not so fine, at toothbrush time.
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Now he's crashing 'round my bathroom,
Now he's reading my degree,
Perusing all my pills, reviewing all my ills,
And he comes out smelling like me...
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Now he advances on my kitchen,
Now he raids every shelf,
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'Til from the pots and pans and puddles and debris
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Emerges three eggs, all for himself.
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Oh, how I'd be ahead if I'd stood out of bed,
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I wouldn't sit here grieving,
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Waiting for the wonderful moment of his leaving
At toothbrush time, ten A.M. again, and toothbrush time.
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I know it's sad to be alone, it's so bad to be alone,
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Still, I should've known that I'd be glad to be alone!
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I should've known, never should've picked up the phone
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And called him.
Hey, um, listen, I gotta...oh, you gotta go too? I'm so glad you understand and....by the way, did you say nine, tonight again? See you then.
Toothbrush time.
text. Arnold Weinstein
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IV: Waitin'
It's easy to start to lose a sense of what you're actually doing with your life, and feel caught in a void of emptiness and meaninglessness. Sometimes, it feels like you're always just waiting for something to happen, but you don't know exactly what. Maybe waiting to feel good, to feel rested, to feel fulfilled? Or waiting for the end.
V: Amor
Waitin', waitin',
I've been waitin',
Waitin', waitin', all my life.
That light keeps on hiding from me,
But it someday just might bless my sight.
Waitin',
Waitin',
Waitin'.
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text. Arnold Weinstein
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I want to start to deal with the uncertainty and unpredictability of life by simply going forth with a sense of impenetrable confidence. The last song in this set is about going through life with a love for yourself that makes you see the world through rose-colored glasses. Though it seems foolish, it makes things more fun. If your self-love shines through, the whole world will drop dead at the mere sight of you. Maybe you'll even get free ice cream.
It wasn't the policeman's fault
In all the traffic roar,
Instead of shouting "Halt!",
When he saw me, he shouted "Amor!"
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Even the ice cream man,
free ice creams by the score!
Instead of shouting "Butter pecan!",
One look at me, he shouted "Amor!"
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All over town it went that way!
Everybody took off the day!
Even philosophers understood
How good was the good 'cause I looked so good.
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The poor stopped taking less,
The rich stopped needing more,
Instead of shouting "No!" and "Yes!",
Both looking at me shouted "Amor!"
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My stay in town was cut short,
I was dragged to court!
The judge said I'd disturbed the peace,
And the jury gave him what for!
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The judge raised his hand,
And instead of "Desist and cease!",
Judgie came to the stand, took my hand,
And whispered "Amor!"
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Night was turning into day,
I walked, alone, away.
Never see that town again!
But as I passed the churchhouse door,
Instead of singing "Amen!",
The choir was singing "Amor!"
text. Arnold Weinstein
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