Songlines for the New Nomadism

Greg — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 21:04:00 +0000

Bruce Chatwin’s fictionalized account of his travels in Australia tells of the Aboriginal belief that:

In theory, at least, the whole of Australia could be read as a musical score. There was hardly a rock or creek in the country that could not or had not been sung.

This belief is deeply felt, and lies at the heart of the theories of geographic creation. It’s qualitatively different, therefore, from the moments I’m about to describe, wherein you find yourself alone or with friends in the back seat of a taxi, and the song on the radio lends a sense of permanence (transcendence?) to an otherwise routine experience.

Most of us can remember that, as young children, the car was a place that could lull us to sleep. Some of us never lose that innate ability to be calmed by aimless motion. The car does the pacing for us. Riding in a cab, we cede control to the driver, rarely choosing the route. Nothing we can do will make it get there faster.

In a cab, time somehow ceases its forward march. (My friend Brody has spoken — in brush strokes — of a similar experience in airports). Certain songs seem to be accutely aware of this phenomenon, somehow predicting this yellow bubble where time stands still.

These songs don’t have to mention taxis, or even driving. Indeed, I’m not talking about the songs, lists of which we sometimes find ourselves brainstorming after a long night of work, that explicitly celebrate (or criticize) the art of taxicab driving in great narrative detail. Rather, a song’s “in” might be, for example, its crystallized evocation of a particular city’s urban ethos. Suspending belief in past and future, we don’t need to remember names. Crossing the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan in November 2001, the Twin Towers had never existed. (I certainly mean no disrespect — Jerome, to be sure, had never left.) I never had to ask “Who is Jill Scott?” I just knew.

There are other songs, of course, that give shout-outs to these moments. They might portray the environment that nurtures the yellow bubble, or perhaps throw down a line about a taxi ride. Sometimes they do both:

These moments sneak up on us. We can’t make them happen, even when certain life events compel us to try to bring them about. Or at least write songs about the attempt:

Any others?

The (link-filled) lowdown on where I work.

Greg — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 23:28:00 +0000

Jim Hightower — no not this Hightower — wrote about Union Cab in the February Issue of The Hightower Lowdown. It seems it’s an excerpt from his forthcoming book.

I can’t say enough how fortunate I feel to be a member-owner of Union Cab. I’ve gotten used to this involved, informed, and equitable lifestyle. I’m not unique in that my credit card and checkin/savings accounts are through a credit union, not a bank, nor in that I do 90% of my grocery shopping at a cooperative. But even my coffee beans are roasted by a coop, and, well, my HMO? That, too, is a coop.

My friend, neighbor, and co-worker/owner writes this blog, which is well written and a good place to start if you’re interested in learning more about cooperating with others in order to take back control of the economic (and related) aspects of our lives.

Update: 4/4/08. Hightower will be reading from his new book at Madison’s Barrymore Theater on 4/6/8 @ 7pm, with special guests Lou and Peter Berryman (no relation), of “Double Yodel” fame.

BunnyBlinks » Taxi

Songlines for the New Nomadism

The (link-filled) lowdown on where I work.