Re: [Harp-L] Harmonica : a popular and ubiquitous instrument

["James Sterett" <jsterett@xxxxxxxxx>]

This is a little long... but well worth the read...  I've submitted it
to L before, but this seems like a worthy time for reprise...

...The following is an excerpt from Mark Graham and an ode to the
harmonica by Robert Service as posted by Danny Barnes on
http://www.folktronics.com/web/node/99   

The harmonica is ready to play. It requires no accessories or tuning to
be at itâs best right out of the box. (The box is important . Always
put the harp back in the box after playing and it will be your friend.)
This is one of the harmonicaâs most pleasing features. Stuck in
traffic; blow a little blues. Need some coin; throw down a hat and get
to work. Standing around the old trash-can fire with your unemployed
pals; 0-60 on âIâm Going Down That Road Feeling Badâ in 2 seconds
flat. The harmonica is the instrument of âThe Peopleâ. The cruel
irony is that the majority of âThe Peopleâ canât stand the noise
that comes out for more than a few seconds unless itâs in the hands of
a competent operator. This, combined with the common belief that anyone
can play it right away (cue upâ Oh Susannaâ) has created a nearly
unbearable tension between the harmonica, its enthusiasts and the rest
of humanity. I believe that this tension can be relieved and that the
harmonica can take its rightful honored place in the post- apocalyptic
world to come...

The Song of the Mouth Organ
(with apologies to the singer of the âSong of the Banjoâ)

Iâm a homely little bit of tin and bone:
Iâm beloved by the Legion of the Lost;
I havenât got a â vox humanaâ tone,
And a dime or two will satisfy my cost.
I donât attempt your high-falutinâ flights:
I am more or less uncertain on the key:
But I tell you, boys, thereâs lots and lots of nights
When youâve taken mighty comfort out of me.

I weigh an ounce or two and Iâm so small
You can pack me in the pocket of your vest;
And when at night so wearily you crawl
Into your bunk and stretch your limbs to rest,
You take me out and play me soft and low,
The simple songs that trouble your heart strings:
The tunes you used to fancy long ago,
Before you made a rotten mess of things.

Then a dreamy look will come into your eyes,
And you break off in the middle of a note;
And then, with the dreariest of sighs,
You drop me in the pocket of your coat.
But somehow Iâve bucked you up a bit;
And, as you turn around and face the wall,
You donât feel so spineless and unfit-
Youâre not so bad a fellow after all.

Do you recollect the bitter Arctic night;
Your camp beside the canyon on the trail;
Your tent a tiny square of orange light;
The moon above consumptive- like and pale;
Your supper cooked, your little stove aglow;
You tired,but snug and happy as a child?
Then âtwas âTurkey in the Strawâ till your lips were nearly raw,
And you hurled your bold defiance at the Wild.

Do you recollect the flashing, lashing pain;
The gulf of humid blackness overhead:
The lightning making rapiers in the rain;
The cattle-horns like candles of the dead
You sitting on your bronco there aloneâ
In your slicker,saddle-sore and sick with cold?
Do you think the silent herd did not hear âThe Mocking Birdâ,
Or relish âSilver Threads among the Goldâ.

Do you recollect the wild Magellan coast;
The head-winds and the icy, roaring seas;
The nights you thought that everything was lost;
The days you toiled in water to your knees;
The frozen ratlines shrieking in the gale;
The hissing steeps and gulfs of livid foam:
When you cheered your messmates nine with âBen Boltâ and
âClementine
And âDixielandâ and âSeeing Nelly Homeâ?

Let the jammy banjo voice the Younger Son,
Who waits for his remittance to arrive;
I represent the grimy, gritty one,
Who sweats his bones to keep himself alive;
Whoâs up against the real thing from his birth;
Whose heritage is hard and bitter toil;
I voice the weary, smeary ones of earth,
The helots of the sea and of the soil.

Iâm the Steinway of strange mischief and mischance;
Iâm the Stradivarius of blank defeat;
In the down-world when the devil leads the dance,
I am simply and symbolically meet;
Iâm the irrepressive spirit of mankind;
Iâm the small boy playing knuckle down with Death;
At the end of all things known where Godâs rubbish heap is thrown,
I shrill impudent triumph at a breath.

Iâm a humble little bit of tin and horn;
Iâm a byword, Iâm a plaything, Iâm a jest;
The virtuoso looks on me with scorn;
But thereâs time that I am better than the best;
Ask the stoker and the sailor of the sea;
Ask the mucker and the hewer of the pine;
Ask the herder of the plain, ask the gleaner of the grain--
Thereâs a lowly, loving kingdom-- and itâs mine.

Robert Service

ânuff said

Mark Graham

 

>>> David Fertig <drfertig@xxxxxxxxx> 10/15/2008 1:27 PM >>>
I submit that, our frequent protestations here notwithstanding, the
harmonica, especially the 10-hole diatonic, is actually one of the more
popular instruments in Western culture.  Consider how often one hears it
in movies & TV soundtracks, commercials, and, of course, pop, blues,
rock and other music.  Producers love it, for a number of obvious
reasons.

Perhaps our (harp-players') jaundiced sense of ignominy born by the
20-dollar-toy (now $30!) is driven more by our experience with bands'
and other musicians' common apprehension at the appearance of the little
devils.  Can't blame Ãm, often they are not well played, including by me
sometimes, for example!  But many instances of fine playing are heard in
our media streams all the time, often in the background or as filligree,
often in the foreground too.

Given the harp's small size and range of applications, it stars
everywhere.  I say it's truly a popular instrument that needs no
defense, just some practiced use.   SO THERE!

-Dave "No I'm not being defensive!" Fertig
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