Letters from Quotidia Hologram 12

Welcome to Letters from Quotidia Hologram 12 where we are off straightaway to the island of the lotus-eaters. According to Wikipedia the natives consume the lotus fruits and flowers which are the primary food of the island. These are a narcotic, causing the inhabitants to sleep in peaceful apathy where they have an absence of interest in or concern about emotional, social, spiritual, philosophical, virtual, or physical life and the wider world. 

So, where is this place? In 1832 Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote about it after a trip to Spain with his close friend Arthur Hallam. Herodotus in the fifth century BC said it could be found on coastal Libya, and it has been located in a variety of Mediterranean locations including Tunisia, Dalmatia and Crete. In Homer’s epic poem the Odyssey Book IX, Odysseus tells how adverse north winds blew him and his men off course until they landed on an island. Some went among the Lotus-eaters, who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not even want to go back and say what had happened to them. I forced them back to the ships Then I told the rest to go on board at once,  so they took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars.

No need for any to take up oars, though, as you and I may consume the lotus fruits and flowers in a variety of  forms anywhere. Seamus Heaney, in 2006, published the poem Anything Can Happen based on an ode by Latin poet, Horace, which depicts the unpredictability of life. He was thinking of 9/11 also and his poem ends with the lines, Capstones shift, nothing resettles right./Telluric ash and fire-spores boil away.//

In 2016 I wrote an apocalyptic song, Anything Can Happen inspired by both the Heaney poem and the Horatian Ode with the lyrics Armageddon is coming, Archangels summoning, Armies fill the land, While the lotus-eaters Drink margaritas And frolic in the sand. Bloodstains spread across the road, The Mosque and Church and Synagogue. Your mp3 buds plug your ears, Protecting you from the screams and jeers. 10 years after this, I wrote another song referencing the lotus-eaters with the title Who Should ‘Scape Whipping?

The title derives from Act 2, Scene 2 of Hamlet where it is plain that if strict justice were applied to any of us, harsh consequences would apply.  Which would you opt for, justice or mercy? I’ll choose the latter! What’s your lotus fruit or flower? Mine is booze and music. Indifference to this world and the people in it caused by the lotus fruits and flowers we consume results in evil outcomes, and we can’t escape complicity by pleading ignorance or impotence. Who should ‘scape whipping? [insert song]  

For over 60 years I have been a consumer of popular music. For most of that time it has been a joy and a revelation. The four pillars for me are Rock, Pop, Folk and Country music. In recent years the rise of AI as “composer”- or should that be, plagiariser- of mainstream music has been an excrescence, IMHO. Can something without a human heart or soul craft anything with which we can connect?

Last week I lauded the Rock City Saints playing in the Sapphire Lounge of St Marys Leagues Club in outer western Sydney and this week I will celebrate The Bandits, a four-piece harmony group, who, like the group last week, play their own instruments in real time and do not use backing tracks-bravo guys! They produce upbeat pop harmonies from The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Fleetwood Mac, and a wide range of Australian and international artists from the 1960s through the 1990s.

Yeah, I know I’m old school- I think I recognise one of my old teachers wearing what looks like a toga and carrying a slate. On it he scrawls lines from the poem Band Concert that Carl Sandburg wrote in 1918. …Flowing and circling dresses, summer-white dresses. Faces, flesh tints flung like sprays of cherry blossoms. And gigglers, God knows, gigglers, rivalling the pony whinnies of the Livery Stable Blues…And boys driving sorrel horses hurl a cornfield laughter at the girls in dresses, summer-white dresses. Amid the cornet staccato and the tuba Oompa, gigglers, God knows, gigglers daffy with life’s razzle dazzle. Slow good-night melodies and Home Sweet Home. And the snare drummer bookkeeper in a hardware store nods hello to the daughter of a railroad conductor…and the summer-white dresses filter fanwise out of the public square. The crushed strawberries of ice cream soda places, the night wind in cottonwoods and willows, the lattice shadows of doorsteps and porches, these know more of the story.

Some things never change- the girls in their party dresses, the boys showing off, the music creating a space for meetings in the night. Meanwhile, out there in cyberspace, the lonely isolates scroll through dating apps hoping to meet- who? 60 years ago, in Belfast I looked forward to the weekends when I could meet my girlfriend/future wife at the Astor, a Mod hang-out where cover bands pumped out ‘sixties hits as a psychedelic lightshow projected onto people and surfaces in the pulsing room. Here’s Astor Nights [insert song]

That concludes the 12 Holograms. Next week will see the first of the Fractals where I get to use the phrase palindromic prime.  Not much more is available for your edification as I am hazy as to how, or indeed if, the Fractals differ in any substantive way from the 12 holograms you’ve already experienced.

Who Should ‘Scape Whipping? (words and music Quentin Bega)

Intro: A G-2 Dm G C2 G

Verse: A G-4 Dm G C Am7 Dm G C G-2 F G C Am F G C G

Bridge- Bb F Bb Eb-3 Dm Dm7 G7 G

I’m sitting here thinking of how things ought to be

Why am I still standing and why am I still free

God only knows how little I deserve

So I’ve got my doubts about eternity

People are saying that judgement day will come

And when it comes babe tell me where to run

And when it comes will I find a place to hide

Or will my flaws to all be open wide

I know I am doing wrong, but I don’t want to change

There is nothing that I feel a pressing need to rearrange

God only knows how little I deserve

Now this feeling that I have is passing strange

People are saying that judgement day will come

And when it comes babe tell me where to run

And when it comes will I find a place to hide

Or will my flaws to all be open wide

Who should ‘scape whipping if judgement it is sound

Who should ‘scape whipping in all this world around

Who should ‘scape whipping oh what is there to do

May the Lord have mercy on you and me

The lotus eaters are a tribe that I know so well

Very pleasant eating but I fear it leads to hell

God only know how little I deserve

I don’t want to get off this carousel

People are saying that judgement day will come

And when it comes babe tell me where to run

And when it comes will I find a place to hide

Or will my flaws to all be open wide

Yes will my flaws to all be open wide

Astor Nights (and we dance)

(words and music Quentin Bega)

Intro: D2 Bm7 Em7 A7sus

Verse: D G D A-2 G A D G G A D Bm Em7 A D G Em7 A D A F#m Bm-2 E A

Chorus: Bb Eb Bb F-2 Am7/c Em/G F G-2

I am meeting with my girlfriend at the Astor Friday night

I’m wearing that new paisley print shirt- it should be all right

With the bell-bottom trousers fitting oh so tight

Hoping when I hit the dance floor, I’ll set the place alight

Or will she stand me up, I’m smiling through my fear

I cannot see her yet, I’m hoping she is near

Now I see her waving, weaving through the crowds

And then I see her smiling, I’m up there in the clouds

I move onto the dance floor as in a trance

And we dance dance dance dance

And time stands still, I hope it always will

We shimmy, sway and swing around, this is our own thing

But time it does not stand still, it’s over all to soon

We walk along those Belfast streets under a late-night moon

And all too soon we arrive at her front door

We kiss and hug and whisper and then we kiss some more

We make plans for next weekend, what will be in store

I know this feeling is so right, deep down in my core

And through the week I dream of when we’ll next meet

The meaning of her kisses translates as something sweet

Dreaming of the weekend and another Astor Night

Knowing that with her everything will be all right

When we move onto the dance floor as in a trance

And we dance dance dance dance… dance

Credits: All written text, song lyrics andmusic (including background music) written and composed by Quentin Bega unless otherwise specified in the credits section after individual posts. Illustrative excerpts from other texts identified clearly within each podcast. I donate to and use Wikipedia frequently as one of the saner sources of information on the web.

Technical Stuff: Microphone-songs Shure SM58; (for the podcast spoken content) Audio Technica AT 2020 front-facing with pop filter); Apogee 76K also used for songs and spoken text. For recording and mixing down: 64-bit N-Track Studio 10 Extended used; Rubix 22 also used for mixing of microphone(s) and instruments. I use the Band in a Box/RealBand 2023 combo for music composition.