LM22-27. James Campion and “Take a Sad Songs” Inspiration.


fir the LOVE of Music with Sara Troy and her guest James Campion, on air from

In The Emotional Currency of “Hey Jude,” James Campion dives deeply into the song’s origins, recording, visual presentation, impact, and eventual influence, while also discovering what makes “Hey Jude” a classic musical expression of personal comfort and societal unity conceived by a master songwriter, Paul McCartney. Within its melodic brilliance and lyrical touchstones of empathy and nostalgia resides McCartney’s personal and professional relationship with his childhood friend and songwriting partner, John Lennon, and their simultaneous pursuit of the women who would complete them. There are also clues to the growing turmoil within the Beatles and their splintering generation scarred by war, assassination, and virulent protest.

Campion’s journey into the song includes the insights of experts in the fields of musicology, sociology, , and history. Campion also reveals commentary from noted Beatles authors, biographers, music historians, and journalists and, finally, a peek into the craft of songwriting from a host of talented composers across several generations. 

Take a Sad Song is a tribute to how a song can define, inspire, and affect us in ways we do not always fully comprehend, as well as a celebration of a truly amazing track in the Beatles canon that reveals one band’s genius and underscores its lasting voice in our cultural and musical landscape.



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James Campion is a syndicated columnist and contributing editor for the pop culture magazine the Aquarian Weekly, where he’s reported on and interviewed several and varied musical artists and reviewed concerts and albums for twenty-three years. His long-form music essays are featured in the webzine Dog Door Cultural. His work has also appeared in NY NewsdayNorth County NewsHackwriters.com, and Huff Post, among other periodicals. He is also the co-host of the popular music podcast Underwater Sunshine with Counting Crows front man, Adam Duritz. The two host an annual music festival in New York City by the same name.



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Democracy Matters

Welcome to this February 2022 edition of Hackwriters. 23 years on-line, 7848 + articles – reviews – stories – travel – share any feature you like and pass them on. February 27th 2022

Coronavirus UK: 31,933 tested positive – 120 deaths (845 last seven days) – Feb 25th 2022 4.00pm
Get Vaccinated! It is still infecting and killing unvaccinated people! Get Boosted!

So, what did we learn about democracy lately?  The thing we thought we had and Putin demonstrated how it could be erased in just 72 hours in a country of 44 million people. Who’s next on his journey back to the USSR? Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia, Moldova?  He already took Belarus without a shot being fired. 

Living under the umbrella of NATO might have given you a sense of security up until February 25 2022 but now we know that European nations are too afraid to fight back (with good reason) and so far, hesitant to impose the kind of sanctions that would actually affect Russia’s ability to survive. I can understand it, no political party want to be the one that tells its people that we’re turning off the Russian gas or oil, and yes you are going to be VERY cold and most likely unable to afford to fill up your car, oh and by the way, get ready for inflation at 25 percent.  Hard to get voted back into the office after that because we live in democracies where votes actually matter.

Hell, even before Putin attacked Ukraine our politicians in the UK were already threatening to take away our central heating under the ‘Green Net Zero Agenda’.  Forcing us out of cars. Around eighty percent of our homes will not be compliant with the new energy efficient rules from 2025 and it might cost each individual owner around £20,000+ to try. Landlords wouldn’t be able to let their homes without that investment. We are talking billions and where would we find all the builders and craftsmen to do it since we voted for Brexit. D’oh.

Now add Putin to the mix, impossible gas prices and an endless threat to democracy, you might be wondering about how to protect your family, your jobs, your homes from the threat of nuclear war. Putin has just threatened this. Unlike you, he has his fur-lined nuclear bunker organised and he’s stolen all the Russian wealth already – he thinks he can survive.

We no longer live in the free world.  Democracy was only ever on loan. Just because we didn’t have to think about it much since WW2 ended or perhaps since the Cuban Missile crisis, it turns out that it is a fragile thing, and guess what, America is going to re-elect Putin’s lickspittle buddy Trump in 2024, the date when democracy in the USA ends too.

© Sam North February/March 2022 – Editor

https://www.hackwriters.com/welcome.htm

The Jewel in the Ruins • Sam Hawksmoor 

 

librarystG

Saska heard Cat sneeze, then suddenly there was another rock fall and Cat was gone.  She let go and the boulder crashed down on the empty space below, causing yet more rocks to fall and opening the breach in the wall even wider.‘Cat!’
Saska was staring at an empty space leading into an ante-chamber.
Cat was somewhere inside there in the darkness licking her wounds growling softly, deeply affronted.

Saska clamboured over the rubble and slid down into the dark recesses of the Castle.  She stood with wonder that this part of the West Wing had survived the bombs intact.

‘Cat?’  She could hear her, still grumbling and feeling sorry for herself.  ‘I’m sorry.  I didn’t make the stones fall.  I told you to sit still.’

She could hear Cat pulling her long leathery tongue over her fur and the cuts.  She was always fierce cleaner when stressed.  Saska’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw the glint of a pair of orange eyes momentarily staring at her.  Cat wasn’t so good as saying thank you either.  She let her be, knew not to get too close when she was angry.

Saska mounted the steps to an inner chamber, pushing on the wooden doors.  They wouldn’t give.  There was the metal plate in the centre and she instinctively placed her hand on it to make it open. Only residents of the Castle could use the West Wing rooms and there was magic in the plates that let the door know who was trying to enter.

‘Welcome Saska Chancellor’.

Saska jumped back.  The door had spoken.  It knew her name.  Nothing had worked since the first bombs fell.  Yet this door knew her.

‘The library is open.’  The door declared and dim lights flickered on behind the doors.

Saska glanced back at Cat who had stopped cleaning with astonishment.

‘I’m going in,’ she told Cat.  The library had been her favourite place when small.  Filled with gold and glittering objects, exotic paintings from across the world and all the books were ever written. Her father had told her it was the Seventh Wonder of the World.  (She had no idea about the other six).

She pushed the creaking doors open and entered the huge chamber, her footsteps echoed before her.

She stared at the vast empty space and immediately felt dizzy with disappointment. There was nothing.  Not a book, not a painting, not a trace of gold, certainly not the millions of books.  A vast empty nothingness.  The bombs could fall and nothing would be lost.

A hot tear rolled down her cheek.  A sudden memory of being nine sitting on a silk cushion on the red square and she’d been reading the dictionary of birds, watching each one fly about the room.  How thrilled she’d been that day.  The library had taught her so much and she’d come here often to enquire or just past the time of day with tigers or watch deer drinking at the waterhole.  The living books, her mother had said they were called.

She advanced onto the first category square – just as she had done a thousand times before and closed her eyes, trying to conjure up a memory.  Where had it all gone?  Who had taken it?  This was the total knowledge of the Capital.  Without it they could never rebuild, no one would know anything…

‘What category, Saska Chancellor?  Your ‘Book of Wild Beasts’ is overdue by 467 days.’

The Book of Beasts lay by her blankets even now, her only treasure, her last connection with the past.  How could one return a book to an empty library? She remembered you were supposed to speak. What was the use in such an empty space?  Who or what would listen?

‘Where is everything?’  She whispered, the whisper echoing back off the bare walls.

‘All is yours to command,’ the library assured her.

Saska took a step to ‘Art Down the Ages’.  The wall behind her flickered to life.  Pictures began to appear. Just as they used to.  The famous portrait of Mistress D’Agneau with her golden sheep by Sir Henri Bolt appeared to fill the whole wall.

‘Please select you century.’

Saska jumped off the step.  She couldn’t see them right now, it would hurt too much.
She jumped onto ‘Adventure and Romance’.  Instantly the right-hand wall was filled with books.  Everything she remembered as a child was still here – yet not. She was beginning to realise something.  The room was supposed to be empty.  The books weren’t ever here, not in reality.  After all, when you selected the book it would give you the option of reading it to you or showing the contents – hence the deer at the waterhole.  The Book of Beasts had to be ordered, she remembered now.  It came a day later from wherever the real books were stored.

She didn’t know what to choose. It had been so long that she had read a story, any story.  She jumped off the step and the books vanished.

She realised exactly what she wanted to do and jumped two squares to ‘music’.  ‘Symphony of the Spheres,’ she commanded.

‘Playing. Please proceed to the Red Square.’

Saska felt a broad smile appear onto her face.  She was ten years old, listening to this music so loud the walls shook and her father had to be summoned.

Yes, the Library was all still here – somehow.  She squatted down on the red square, no silk cushion to shield her from the cold marble this time.
The music began to play.

‘Louder.’  She commanded.

The spheres began to dance above her, driven by the rhythm of the music, the choral underscore began to swell and fill the space.  Saska’s heart began to beat wildly, tears flowing now unchecked and suddenly there was Cat, pressing against her like always, seeking her love and reassurance.  She hugged her close, aware that her coat was damp with blood.

She sobbed into the blue fur, her heart so strong and solid for all these years of war was suddenly breaking, shattered all that was lost.  Once she had a family, a brother and a country that was the envy of the world.

‘Louder,’ she called again, wanting the music to fill up her heart and head and eradicate out all the pain and suffering.  Cat stayed motionless.  The music, this place, felt familiar.  She’d played here when a kitten.  She remembered the music.  The girl was bigger now.  This was the first time she had ever cried.

© Sam Hawksmoor May 2019
You can download Girl with Cat (Blue) or order the print version here
*Shortlisted for the Rubery Book Award 2018 & ‘Honorary Mention’ in the 26th Writer’s Digest Book Awards 2018 

Sam Hawksmoor.com 

https://www.hackwriters.com

A Source of Inspiration

get-inspired

It’s probably a bit old hat right now.  Thinking about who or what might inspire you.  I got to thinking about it when I posed the question in class and scored almost zero response. It either wasn’t something the students had perhaps considered or that they were already following so many influencers that it’s a natural part of their lives. People concerned about diet or health follow Deliciously Ella – confused about sexuality? there’s ten thousand people out there with a blog. Any issue at all, there’s a million others with advice. This is an amazing tool which could have come in handy when I was young. Can’t work out how to use your iphone – just Google it and every single aspect of it is on-line for free. Need advice on how to live your life? It’s right here. Who needs a mentor.

Perhaps no one needs inspiration from a ‘real life’ individual anymore because they are completely overwhelmed by media coming at them from every direction.  It’s must be hard to discern good from bad – everything is filtered to reflect your preferences to discourage you from straying outside of the Facebook comfort zone. (Unless you actually seek out the bad stuff and then the exact same filtering effect will take place.  If you like this act of random violence – you’ll just love this one.)

Jean d’Arc was inspired by visions to lead the French to victory – numerous saints likewise found inspiration in God.  In latter years people have found what they need in drugs (but most likely promptly forgot what it was that captured their imagination when they came down).  Others, and I am one, have been in the past inspired by my muse.  Call it a crush, call it what you will, but to be so enamored by another person it inspires you to create your best work is often the most wonderful thing that can ever happen to you.  It might be later you discover the muse has feet of clay, but no matter, the work is done and you are better for it.  I for one miss that halo effect.  Creation in the arts inspired by deep and passionate love (often unrequited).

John Keats had Fanny Brown, Fitzgerald had Zelda (arguably the better writer) and of course the Greeks had nine muses – Clio, Euterpe, Thalia, Melpomeni, Terpsichore, Erato, Polymnia, Ourania and Calliope. Zeus entranced by young Mnemosyne slept with her for nine consecutive nights.  The result of their encounter was the Nine Muses.  ?nemosyne gave the infants to Nymph Eufime and God Apollo. When they grew up they showed their tendency to the arts, taught by God Apollo himself.  They were not interested in humdrum life; they dedicated their lives to the Arts. Apollo raised them in Mount Elikonas.  Since that moment, the Muses encouraged creation, enhancing imagination and inspiration of the artists.  Well that’s the myth anyway.

Perhaps I should advertise for a new muse, but muses are very hard to come by and the random rarity is what makes it special.  Nor can I say exactly who or what might inspire.  It can be a little smile, the way a person walks, anything…
I remember a girl from my past whom I adored called Doke M.  Stunningly beautiful, elusive, educated me about music. She was mysterious and cared not a fig for my devotion.  But perhaps that is as it should be.  She inspired me to start writing and broke my heart when she eloped with a man she just met without saying goodbye.  Muses only inspire, they aren’t supposed to be tied down and captured.  All is lost if they lose their mystery.

I hope my students find some individual to inspire them one day – it might well shatter them – but it will alter their life and they will emerge the better for it.

dyinggirlThey could probably start with downloading Me, Earl and the Dying Girl a witty, tragic, beautifully crafted indie movie starring Olivia Cook, Thomas Mann and RJ Cyler about a boy who finds inspiration and a girl who believes in him – well worth finding and watching…


Of cause you can find your Muse right here on Self Discovery Radio with all of our radio guests. 
Soon you will know if it is Trump or Clinton. Or if the head of the FBI is arrested for gerrymandering the election. I’ll leave it to our US Correspondent James Campion to decipher. But beware – we are heading for trouble… bigly.
© Sam Hawksmoor November 3rd 2016

For Sam’s book GO HERE 
– Love & Devotion in the Wastelands
Enjoy the Fall   See any article you like here on Hackwriters.com– please share it. More to come as the month progresses.

No Heavy Lifting • Sam Hawksmoor

hacklogo
••• The International Writers Magazine: Significant Others

I was making notes for my students and asking them to tell me about something significant or life altering that had happened to them and suddenly thought – well I’d better just try this thing myself.

chimpwriter

After all here I am lying in bed after having a hernia op.  I’m thinking, aside from the obvious pain and having staples holding my flesh together (feels not unlike having recently swallowed a porcupine), is this a significant event?  Was it life altering?  I can’t lift anything for the next three months, that’s going to be irritating. Can’t drive for a three weeks, that’s highly annoying, but its only life altering in a temporary way.  Soon I’ll be back to my normal grumpy self and all this will recede into the background, that and the memory of my dedicated and oftentimes generous sister coming over to look after me and completely reorganising my house in such a way I will never, ever find anything ever again.

Never let a left-handed person re-organise your life, they think in a completely different way to right-handed people and their logic is alien.  Any criticism at all evokes a ‘you have never loved me’ response and we must have had that row 500 times in a lifetime where we don’t talk to each other for a couple of hours. Once we had a row so bad I didn’t speak to her for two years.  I guess that was life altering.  Quite what the row was about I don’t recall, but it would have no basis in logic, of that I am sure.

My sister is generally impressed by the most unreasonable people on earth.  President Putin can do no wrong.  She will seemingly swallow any propaganda RT shove out.  She has been rooting for Trump for a year at least and believes every lie he ever tells about Hillary.  When I was young, Nixon was always great and misunderstood, Kissinger amazing.  Assad would come under the misunderstood category it’s my guess. Don’t even mention Brexit.  Her own son barely speaks to her because he is convinced she voted ‘leave’.

I don’t understand the attraction of Trump to anyone.  Granted I don’t favour Hillary, but jeez what else is out there with half a brain?  I was all for Obama (first term) and naturally she blames him for the Arab Spring, Libya, Egypt, Syria. To a point his ‘leading from behind’ made no sense to anyone and allowed an emboldened Putin to invade the Crimea with impunity. Maybe it’s about power. People are attracted to people who wield power aren’t they?

How do brothers and sisters grow up so differently?  What takes one down one path and one another?  ‘If we weren’t related you wouldn’t even know me.’ She often states when cross with me.

How many brothers or sisters would say that?  Probably more than you think.

Everyone talks about the importance of family and certainly when you are in bed and can’t move and or feed yourself too good, only family is going to pitch up to do it.  But we have been the strangest family.  Not one of us wants to be friends.  None of us share any political views.  My sister got bored and read one of my books the first time in her life recently (there are around 17 to choose from) and spent the next few days telling me that she’d never read anything so depressing in all her life and why can’t I write ‘happy stories’, be like a ‘normal’ person and celebrate life.

This about a bookJ&K Forever’ which concerns two young lovers determined to stay together no matter what evils society throw at them and how, even they are being hunted down, look out for each other tenderly and with determination.  When my sister reads she looks for the negatives.  When I write I search for the positives in a bad situation. Two opposite ways of looking at the world.

I am reminded by my sister regularly that I am only in this world because she finally persuaded me that I was dying during a heart attack and called an ambulance.  Without her insistence I would have most definitely died two years ago so – yes – I have to accept her kindness and the sound of RT in the other room.
All the while I am thinking next time she’s ill I shall have my culinary revenge.

The significance of all this is that either I avoid getting ill ever again and complaints about my attitude or just understand that sometimes, in the end, family is all you have. Good or bad – duty calls.
© Sam Hawksmoor October 2016

www.samhawksmoor.com

Another Place to Die : Endtime

J&K Forever 

The next killer pandemic is on its way…

As sister number 2, on many things I agree with Sam, but you can not change some ones path that is so firmly entrenched. So we love our sister and embrace her love and kindness and let our differences be different.

MORE OF SAMS BOOKS CAN BE FOUND HERE.

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