The morning newspaper was filled with coverage of this year's opening weekend of the New Orleans Jazz Fest. Most of it taken up with Bruce Springteen and Dr. John, rightfully so. No, I was not there, opting instead for the typical Sunday of a lazy, slow start, the newspaper, some talking head television, and yard work. Been to most of the Jazz Fests; sometimes feel I don't need to go to them all. But I must say I remember them, every single one. Here's why.
The recounting of the Spingteen and Dr. John individual performances, as well as their collaborative efforts, centered quite unsurprisingly on the message of outrage and truth-telling regarding the Katrina and BP oil spill abuses visited on this city. The pictures revealed throngs uncountable enthralled.
All were obviously on the same page. However, you and I know that apart from such transcendent occasions as that, the breakdown of opinion would range from acknowledgement of the truth regarding such things all the way to acceptance of the most idiotic right-wing political and corporate clap-trap.
Conversely, Nobel laureate in economics, Paul Krugman, appeared on a television talking-head panel yesterday with a bunch of dolts, none of whom could spell dollar. All of them remained utterly convinced of their respective preconceived renditions of reality, no matter how many times Krugman demonstrated they were full of crap.
So, note to all of us: The truth wants cadence and rhythm; in a word, poetry. Without it, we are unmoved. It has always been so from Homer through Joe Hill, Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, Paul Robeson, John Lennon, Phil Ochs, Bob Marley, and Martin Luther King. The truth must be made to sing, else many will never hear it. Talk to you later, after some more clarinet practice.