Category Archives: commentary

The Company Says

The Company Says

 

I‘ve never been a union member — I don’t really think I’d be a good fit. I have worked (in non-union jobs) in a union environment (though it was a Teamsters shop in the ’70s… not exactly the best showcase for the postive aspects of trade unionism).

I understand the collective bargaining system and — though it is clearly far from perfect and may not be well-suited to modern, progressive companies — I think over the last century and change that it has, on balance, worked fairly well for both US workers and companies, bringing some much needed stability to employment relations at the end of the 19th century and laying the foundation for the 20th century American middle class, which, itself, nurtured the enormous expansion of US manufacturing in the last century.

But at the dawn of the union era, it was a different matter. Around the globe, workers in the industrializing nations of Europe and North America faced unsafe working conditions and violence and intimidation from privately held companies. While stockholders might blanch at the thought of company-hired goons firing what we now call “live rounds” into crowds of workers and splitting heads with metal clubs, individual mine and factory owners all too often didn’t.

It’s a different time, now, of course.

But only a few days ago with the Sago mine disaster/debacle, we had a grim reminder that even modern, publicly held companies can fall down and fall down hard when it comes to treating their workers with common decency and regard for their safety and health.

And the part of our federal government devoted to policing those conditions fell down hard, as well, handing out scores of hazard violation citations — but backing them up with trifling punishment. In one case — at a Sago mine — the company was cited for “significant and substantial” violations and ongoing dangerous conditions that led to the death of miner — and then fined the minimum possible — $60.

Maybe we haven’t evolved beyond the need for unions, after all…

The Company Says

You walk into town
and you look all around
and it doesn’t take long
to see that something is wrong
very wrong

the people stand around
with their eyes on the ground
it doesn’t take long
to see that something is wrong

and the company says
it’s a company town
now, if you don’t like that
don’t ya hang around

and the Company says
it’s a company town
if you don’t like that
sell a penny on the pound
give ‘way

One man stands
says I won’t run
but the goons come around
with their clubs and guns

and they knock him down
and they kick him around
and they drag his body
to the edge of town

and the company says
he’s better off dead
than fightin’ with us

and the company says
it’s a company town
if you don’t like that
we’ll put you in the ground

and the Company says
it’s a company town
now, if you don’t like that
don’t ya hang around

and the Company says
it’s a company town
if you don’t like that
sell a penny on the pound
give ‘way

and the company says
he’s better off dead
than fightin’ with us

and the company says
it’s a company town
if you don’t like that
we’ll put you in the ground

(C)1986, TK Major

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I Saw My Baby on the Street Today

I Saw My Baby on the Street Today

You see a lot of homeless people near the ocean, at least around here.

If you ask them, often as not they’ll tell you, if you have to be homeless somewhere, you might as well be homeless by the beach. And there are often pick-up jobs and day labor opportunities near the waterfront, and sometimes hideaways in coastal estuaries.

But sometimes I can’t help wondering — as I’m sure others have wondered — whether they end up along the water because other people keep pushing them away and, eventually, there’s just nowhere else to go.

The protagonist of this song finds himself torn between pity and forgotten love as he struggles with the natural inclination to turn away when he sees his estranged wife homeless on the street and she doesn’t recognize him.

I’ve seen the mutation and destruction of personality that can result from some sickness and injury and I don’t know that I would have the kind of selflessness it takes to make the sacrifice he makes by eventually taking her back in. (Eventually, meaning by the second short verse in a two verse song.)

I saw my baby on the street today

I saw my baby on the street today
she didn’t recognize me I turned away
I shoulda said
come back baby
come back home
how could I leave ya out here all alone(in the cold

I know youre crazy
and it’s tearing me apart
but I vowed to love you
til’ death do us part

come back baby come back home
i jusc can lveave you out there in the cold
unpack your shopping crat
take a nice long bath
it ain’t like the old days
but the worst is past

I know youre crazy
and it’s tearing me apart
but I vowed to love you
til’ death do us part

(C)1990, TK Major

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Government Witness

Government WItness

 

Like a lot of people in the 70’s, I was fascinated by the so-called radical underground, whether I wanted to be or not. No one could escape the media fixation with celebrity fugitives like Patty Hearst.

I conceived this song as a basic song of romantic betrayal — with the twist that betrayal takes the form of turning government witness.

I made sure that, in classic gangster movie tradition, the antihero is promised the ultimate punishment for his crimes — a bitter fate compounded by what he sees as his lover’s treachery. So don’t start up with me for glamorizing criminals and terrorists.

The song was originally performed with my band, Machine Dog. There’s a link below to a download of the Machine Dog version of “Government Witness.”

Machine Dog version

GOVERNMENT WITNESS

Someone’s been bleeding us
a young man wake up each day old and tired
I got my gun and my silver bullets
gonna get me a government vampire

Hanging on the chain link fence
got my silver cross my Smith & Wesson .38
But when they turn on the juice
I’m crucified on the electric gate

If this is real life
I guess I’ll get used to it
I’ll be all right as
soon as I get over these electro-convulsive fits

Shackled in my place
inside rthe federal courtroom dock
Staring at your face
floating in the witness box

You’re looking right through me
just like you never heard my name
but you used to lay right next to me
in our little hideout by the lake

If this is real life
I suggest you get used to it
You’ll be all right
as soon as you find a heart to fit that hole in your chest

Governmewnt witness
who would have dreamed you’d be a government witness
Government witness
go ahead — deny you are a government witness

You must have lied to me then
Why can’t you lie to them now
Will you be lying to yourself
while I sweat it out in the death house — death house

This is real life . . .

Copyright 1980
TK Major

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Bold & Rational Men

Bold & Rational Men

In the early 70’s I decided I needed to feel out what a worldview without God would be like. Maybe, in an odd kind of way, I was taking John Lennon up on his imagine challenge.

At the time, a massive wave of fundamental evangelism was sweeping America and I felt that one thing was sure — if what they believed in was “God” — I must be an atheist.

After a while, I began to tell people when they asked that I considered myself “spiritual” but that most people would think of me an atheist.

In a way I think I was also trying to synchronize my intellectual notion of God — which reflected the deist philosophies I grew up with — with my emotional sense of God, which was highly paternalized and, I’ll admit it, in some aspects had the cartoonish sentimentality of the popular culture notion of God.

If I was ever to grow up spiritually, it seemed clear to me that I had to stop thinking of The Unknowable as a kindly older man with everybody’s best interest at heart.

I felt like I wanted to really understand what the universe would feel like as a place without that God. And I explored that on an intellectual, emotional, and to the extent that I could, mystical or spiritual level. The interesting thing is that, for me, the universe never felt empty or scary or purposeless. Life might occasionally scare me… but that big, ’empty’ universe didn’t.

Without the magisterial God of my juvenile imagination and the dualistic notion of an independent soul, I was suddenly struck by what a, you should pardon the expression, miracle human consciousness is. Sure, we can carefully analyze the processes and patterns of human consciousness, mapping and measuring our abilities and limitations, tracing our emotional lives through the complex interaction of brain chemicals and neural messaging — all that is understandable, measurable.

But consciousness — that’s something else, again. Complex, interdependent processes… kid’s play. But experiencing them. Wow.

All of a sudden that “empty” universe seemed very magical. If the raw materials of consciousness — let’s get megalomaniacal here: my consciousness — are part of the universe, then the universe is, as far as I’m concerned, a pretty magical place.

Bold and Rational Men

Come now y’ bold and rational men
and march y’ straight ahead
y’ fear not the fire of the dragon
nor the carious teeth of death

And come now, lad
fear not the gods
you’ve often said we’re all alone
d’n’cha see your where your path must lie
straight into the unknowable
good speed now
you’re on your own

But wait now put your hand on the earth
and see where your life flows from
this good dark earth
is the mother of us all
y’know you are her son

and come and gaze into the sky
see how dark and deep
you are the prodigal lost in time
lost in a dream kept sleep

(C)1973, TK Major

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