I Am of the Stars
I Am of the Stars
It's a Universal Thing
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It's a Universal Thing

Listen to My Acoustic Version of Rocket Man
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Hello and happy Friday to ya.

I am currently reading a book by the folk singer Mary Gauthier called Saved By a Song. In one of the early chapters she writes about being a teenager and singing the John Prine song “Sam Stone” to a bunch of bikers and drunk college kids in some parking lot in the late 1970s. “Sam Stone” is often thought of as an anti-war song, and I suppose it is, but it is also about addiction, loss, family, struggle, loneliness, depression…and a lot of other stuff. The song has the best chorus ever, starting with the line “There’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes”. John Prine said he wrote the song as a composite of 3 or 4 different people he knew who had been in the Vietnam War. Prine said, “I think I invented the character of Sam Stone as a story just so I could get around to that chorus.”

In Mary Gauthier’s book she explains how a 300 pound biker and ex-marine named “Grizz” would cry his eyes out every time she played the tune. And she expresses her astonishment that the same song “that made a former marine weep also spoke deeply to a seventeen-year-old gay girl who’d been through a different kind of war”. Music— more than anything else—has the power to connect people who maybe otherwise wouldn’t have much of anything in common. Too bad just our shared humanity isn’t enough to make people have some compassion for each other. But music definitely helps to push us in the right direction.

I am reminded of the John Denver song “Take Me Home (Country Roads)”. Why does it sustain such a ridiculously long run of never-ending popularity? I’m pretty much sick of the song but at least it’s a relatively good song (especially compared to something like “Sweet Caroline” which I wish I would never hear again). Nothing against West Virginia (it’s a beautiful place) but the answer to my question about the song’s popularity has nothing to do with West Virginia. I think when people sing the song it’s about whatever “home” is to them. It’s a universal thing. It’s mythic, Wizard of Oz stuff that is embedded deep in our human heads.

Another song that works magic like this is “Rocket Man”. The song always connects with me in a sad but reassuring way. It’s about being away…being lonely, being an outsider. What’s more lonely than outer space??? I guess it’s nice to hear other people struggle the same way you do. Makes you feel less alone. Just like in John Denver’s song it’s kind of a metaphor. The Rocket Man is up in space all alone away from everybody. Isolated. He longs to be home. Be somewhere he is accepted and recognized. He longs to be with his family. Universal stuff. There is a beautiful animated video for this song created by Iranian illustrator Majid Adin. He illustrates his story as a refugee fleeing Iran to the music of “Rocket Man” and it totally fits (link below).

So since Mary Gauthier’s book, in some convoluted way, got me thinking about an Elton John song I decided to record my acoustic version of this classic. I’ve always enjoyed this tune, and it was fun to work up a version that worked for my solo-acoustic style.

Hope you enjoy it. I’m also including the lyrics (father down) to “Sam Stone”. I first heard “Sam Stone” being sung by Evan Dando (Lemonheads) in 2001. From there I listened to John Prine’s first album then listened another couple hundred times.

Enjoy your weekend. Happy Fourth! Thanks for reading and listening. - Mick

P.S.

We’ve got a good summer schedule—to view our full list of upcoming shows go here.

Rocket Man
(Elton John & Bernie Taupin)

She packed my bags last night, pre-flight
Zero hour, 9 a.m.
And I'm gonna be high as a kite by then

I miss the Earth so much, I miss my wife
It's lonely out in space
On such a timeless flight

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time
'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh, no, no, no
I'm a rocket man
Rocket man
Burning out his fuse up here alone

Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids
In fact, it's cold as hell
And there's no one there to raise them if you did

And all the science, I don't understand
It's just my job five days a week
A rocket man
A rocket man

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time
'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh, no, no, no
I'm a rocket man
Rocket man
Burning out his fuse up here alone
And I think it's gonna be a long, long time

Same Stone
(John Prine)

Sam Stone came home to his wife and family
After serving in the conflict overseas
And the time that he'd served had shattered all his nerves
And left a little shrapnel in his knees
But the morphine eased the pain
And the grass grew 'round his brain
And gave him all the confidence he lacked
With a purple heart and a monkey on his back

There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothing, I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears, don't stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios, hm-hm-hm-hm

Sam Stone's welcome home didn't last too long
He went to work when he'd spent his last dime
And Sammy took to stealing when he got that empty feeling
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime
And the gold roared through his veins
Like a thousand railroad trains
And eased his mind in the hours that he chose
While the kids ran around wearin' other peoples' clothes

There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothing, I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears, don't stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios, hm-hm-hm-hm

Sam Stone was alone when he popped his last balloon
Climbing walls while sittin' in a chair
Well, he played his last request while the room smelled just like death
With an overdose hovering in the air
But life had lost its fun
And there was nothing to be done
But trade his house that he bought on the GI bill
For a flag-draped casket on a local hero's hill

There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin', I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears, don't stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios, hm-hm-hm-hm

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