If I'm sure of one thing, it's that I'm sure of nothing

  • By Mike Dewey
  • September 24, 2013
  • 416
                        
summary: Every age has its risks and rewards which leads Mike Dewey back to familiar territory: What to make of a song like "For What It's Worth." I’ve always had a soft spot in my rock n rock heart for songs whose titles weren’t ripped from their choruses or, actually, any words at all contained in their lyrics. Bob Dylan’s always been good at it, which is what you’d expect, since he’s always hiding being that sly smile. Consider “Rainy Day Women 12 & 35,’ which we all know as “Everybody Must Get Stoned” or “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” which doesn’t really lend itself to ANY title, since perhaps “Twenty Years of Schoolin’ and They Put You on the Day Shift” is a little cumbersome. Even for Dylan. The track, though, that’s always eluded an easy title and therefore comes in at No. 1 for me is “For What It’s Worth.” Looking at those four words, you’d think, maybe, it’s a song about lost love or friends who bailed you out of a difficult spot ... or a bet placed on the Yankees to win the World Series in 2013. Fans of the Buffalo Springfield -- which belongs in any Top Ten countdown of the most influential American bands – will no doubt recognize that title and immediately associate it with Stephen Stills and his reaction to seeing cops beat kids on the Sunset Strip in LA back in 1967 or so. There was a time, as younger readers might not realize, that the world was up for grabs and protest was everywhere, when you had to pick a side. It was a lot more important than the Stones vs. the Beatles or Ginger against Mary Ann ... lives were on the line. I don’t know much, but I DO know which of that divide I was on. The Stones. Mary Ann. And peace. The Buffalo Springfield lasted only for a couple of albums but as the first “super group” – not named Blind Faith – they wore some heavy shoes and a song like “For What It’s Worth” isn’t the worst kind of legacy. Quick. Name a Blind Faith tune. Exactly. To refresh your memory, the members of the Springfield were Steve Stills and Neil Young, Richie Furay and Bruce Palmer and, of course, Dewey Martin on drums. What’s in a name, indeed? Neil’s lasted the longest, of course, but I think he had the most fun with these guys, though Crazy Horse is his legendary backup partners. In the Springfield, he didn’t have to carry the weight. He was just a player. BACK THEN, CSN&Y were only letters that might float to the top of a bowl of Alpha Bits. Later on, of course, they became synonymous with massive egos and nationwide tours and an uneven two-record album called “Four Way Street,” still among my favorite live LPs ever released. I mean, their version of “Carry On” still matters and what can you say about “Ohio” that hasn’t already been written. You know who the most under-appreciated member of CSN&Y was? David Crosby. Sure, you know all about his career with the Byrds and his string of near-death experiences, but I would take this opportunity to recommend his only solo LP, a tasty slice of vinyl titled “If Only I Could Remember My Name.” It’s an oddity, a record that grows on you like Spanish moss on a live oak, framed by a Carolina sunset, with night crashing soon and a bruised moon rising. OK ...where were we? Oh. Yeah. The Buffalo Springfield and “For What It’s Worth.” It’s all about a feeling we’ve all had, probably lately, and its name is paranoia. “Paranoia strikes deep,” Stills writes and sings. “Into your heart it will seep” Now, when you’re 12 years old and living in small-town Ohio, a line like that – snaking its way out of your transistor radio-- can either open a door or slam it shut. It’s up to you. Teenage paranoia? Imagine that. The feeling that there were people out there who meant you harm. If not latent, that kind of emotion was in its infancy, evolving and growing stronger. Vietnam was real, as was the idea of death. Kids younger than me by a decade or so had gone though the whole “Duck and Cover” thing, the way the nation prepared its youngest folks to survive a nuclear blast by seeking shelter beneath a school desk. Nice. Good luck with those isotopes. But when it came to my generation, the fear was far more palpable and that’s why the Buffalo Springfield matters. WHAT WAS THAT old saying? Oh, yeah. “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean that they’re not out to get you.” I think I still have a T-shirt emblazoned with those words. Let’s focus. Do you know a single, solitary person who isn’t scared to his socks about what might happen tomorrow? I didn’t think so. So who do you trust? This is the nut of the problem because, in a world filled with people who aren’t trustworthy, you have no idea. If you’re lucky – and I mean lottery lucky – you have one or two people you can count on. It’s that bleak out there. My advice? Give “For What It’s Worth” a spin, light a candle, offer prayers for those lost and then, most importantly, dispel paranoia. Because, guess what? The deck is stacked against you and the only chance you have is believe in the best another human being has to offer. Is it risky? Of course. Anyone who’d been betrayed knows that empty, awful feeling, the one that screams, “Are you an idiot or what???” I’ve lent money that’s never been repaid. I’ve paid for car repairs that have rendered my vehicle unfixed and undriveable. I’ve given my heart to women who’ve crushed it. And I’ve decided that life is far too short to let the bad guys win. Am I, occasionally, paranoid? Sure. Just the other day, I got this bad feeling about someone I consider a friend, something that wanted to propel me to the Dark Side, very gloomy and bad. Let’s get back to “For What’s It’s Worth” before our time together expires. The key line is “it starts when you’re always alone” and, in those half-dozen words lies the solution. Trust someone to listen to your deepest fears. Slice open your soul. Share your misery. And then, do the same thing for someone else. It eases paranoia the way aspirin knocks down a headache or the way just listening to a Dylan record from the mid-Sixties can raise your spirits. Trust me on this. Still, you might want to duck and cover. Mike Dewey can be emailed at CarolinamikeD@aol.com or snail-mailed at 6211 Cardinal Drive, New Bern, NC 28560. He’s on Facebook, as well, and you’ll have fun on his page.


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