I'm sure it's all over the news by now. There was an explosion in the NY subway system a few hours ago. I was at the Metropolitan Ave. G station in Brooklyn. Ground zero.
And i'm alive.
Okay, it was most likely some mechanical failure on the train that caused the explosion. The equivalent of a car backfiring, perhaps. No one was hurt. So let's not pander to the atmosphere of fear in this country, and the stupid "security" subway announcements that have become part of our lives, making us look at one another with mistrust and race paranoia.
Still in all, you don't want to be near a train when it backfires.
I was on the opposite platform, almost directly across from the explosion. The train had just begun to pull out. BOOOOOOM! I saw a yellow explosion under the train. Everyone around me ducked or jumped back. I whipped my fists up. The train kept moving, and came to a stop thirty feet on. I couldn't see any remains that gave a clue to the origins of the explosion. Within a few minutes there was a smoky haze as far as the eye could see. The police arrived, and soon unloaded the train and sent everyone on their way. There was speculation on our side of the track that the station would be shut down, which would cause an hour or two delay in getting home to Queens. But no, ten minutes later, our heroic train came down the line.
There was no clapping. New Yorkers don't impress easily.
But let me just reiterate, you don't wanna be near a train that backfires. I was 25 feet away. I don't think there was shrapnel, but if you had been within a ten-foot radius of the blast, there would have been hospitalization. I wish i had been able to catch the reaction of the people directly over the blast. But when an explosion like that occurs, your attention is only on the source.
The great subway attack of 2008. Boo.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
george and john and...
What do John Lennon and George Harrison have in common?
Beyond the obvious, dimnut.
The greatest solo albums they released were their first and their last (no, i don't mean VIRGINS or WONDERWALL, nutbush). I don't think there is anything profound or mystical in this. The circumstances of their final albums were different, as George probably knew he was working on his last. Yet it's a curiosity worth mentioning, these wonderful bookends, John's PLASTIC ONO BAND and DOUBLE FANTASY, and George's ALL THINGS MUST PASS and BRAINWASHED. It's possible that casual fans don't know George's last album. Alternately buoyant and serene, irreverent and devout, it's wonderful and amazing from start to finish. How it got largely overlooked, even by Beatle fans, is a cause for head-shaking.
Paul, of course, won't follow this pattern, even if his final album is as good as BAND ON THE RUN. And Ringo, well Ringo is of course Ringo. It's been argued that nothing the Beatles did solo lived up to their output as a unit. This may be true, but that observation is also a loaded one, dripping with self-fulfilling prophecy and measuring something against a previous accomplishment when it ought be measured only against itself. I loved Paul's stuff first, because it was more prominent on the radio when i grew up. And then i heard "Imagine", and knew that John was not only my favorite Beatle, but also my favorite musician, period. Paul has been abused because he's not John. This is an attitude worthy of a moron, and it's time to put it to rest. Quantitatively and qualitatively, he's arguably the greatest songwriter of the twentieth century, in the company of only Cole Porter and Paul Simon. As for Ringo, bless him, i defy anyone to listen to the PHOTOGRAPH anthology, and tell me he didn't hold up his end of the legacy. It took a longer time for me to come around to George's music, because of the god stuff. But when i finally lifted that rock...well, i refuse to pick a favorite solo Beatle. There are some absolute wonderments of his you probably don't know. Like the demo version of "Let it Down" on the ALL THINGS 2001 reissue. Freed from Spector's overproduction, this song is all that one voice and one guitar could be. The CONCERT FOR GEORGE tribute album...i could write a whole blog on what Clapton, McCartney, and the others created that night. The songs "Here Comes the Moon", "Soft-hearted Hana", and above all the achingly beautiful "Someplace Else". And of course everything George did with the Wilburys. I wonder, had John lived, would he have created a similar band with Elton, Nillson, Bowie, Ringo, and maybe a wild card like Roger Waters?
The lads seem to be shuffling off this mortal coil at regular intervals. If this continues, we'll have one of them until 2040.
No wagering, please.
Beyond the obvious, dimnut.
The greatest solo albums they released were their first and their last (no, i don't mean VIRGINS or WONDERWALL, nutbush). I don't think there is anything profound or mystical in this. The circumstances of their final albums were different, as George probably knew he was working on his last. Yet it's a curiosity worth mentioning, these wonderful bookends, John's PLASTIC ONO BAND and DOUBLE FANTASY, and George's ALL THINGS MUST PASS and BRAINWASHED. It's possible that casual fans don't know George's last album. Alternately buoyant and serene, irreverent and devout, it's wonderful and amazing from start to finish. How it got largely overlooked, even by Beatle fans, is a cause for head-shaking.
Paul, of course, won't follow this pattern, even if his final album is as good as BAND ON THE RUN. And Ringo, well Ringo is of course Ringo. It's been argued that nothing the Beatles did solo lived up to their output as a unit. This may be true, but that observation is also a loaded one, dripping with self-fulfilling prophecy and measuring something against a previous accomplishment when it ought be measured only against itself. I loved Paul's stuff first, because it was more prominent on the radio when i grew up. And then i heard "Imagine", and knew that John was not only my favorite Beatle, but also my favorite musician, period. Paul has been abused because he's not John. This is an attitude worthy of a moron, and it's time to put it to rest. Quantitatively and qualitatively, he's arguably the greatest songwriter of the twentieth century, in the company of only Cole Porter and Paul Simon. As for Ringo, bless him, i defy anyone to listen to the PHOTOGRAPH anthology, and tell me he didn't hold up his end of the legacy. It took a longer time for me to come around to George's music, because of the god stuff. But when i finally lifted that rock...well, i refuse to pick a favorite solo Beatle. There are some absolute wonderments of his you probably don't know. Like the demo version of "Let it Down" on the ALL THINGS 2001 reissue. Freed from Spector's overproduction, this song is all that one voice and one guitar could be. The CONCERT FOR GEORGE tribute album...i could write a whole blog on what Clapton, McCartney, and the others created that night. The songs "Here Comes the Moon", "Soft-hearted Hana", and above all the achingly beautiful "Someplace Else". And of course everything George did with the Wilburys. I wonder, had John lived, would he have created a similar band with Elton, Nillson, Bowie, Ringo, and maybe a wild card like Roger Waters?
The lads seem to be shuffling off this mortal coil at regular intervals. If this continues, we'll have one of them until 2040.
No wagering, please.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
director/producer
After five years in NY as an occasional actor and full time writer-dreamer, i'm returning to a familiar role: director/producer. Last night, Evan at the Lumber Theater greenlighted production of my script ROHTI SEX. Evan also shows great interest in having my other scripts produced.
In some ways the past five years, i've been avoiding producing my plays. Oh, there have been surface reasons...lack of cash to self-produce in this monied town...insisting on a circumstance wherein i can maintain creative control...but the truth is that i've only put minimal effort into producing or publishing. I think i needed the past five years to really explore being a writer. Also, i know that any producer's journey i embark upon may profoundly diminish my output as a writer. I have ten unproduced plays now, most of them products of my time in NY. The further along i go, the more and more i think that the most important contribution i can make to the world is as a writer. Not that i'll ever want to give up acting, but...it seems patently simple to me that to really affect people in the ways i wish, i'll never get there parroting other's words.
Or perhaps i'm just a good actor and a middling playwright, and will need the coming live productions to teach me that.
Either way, it sounds like fun.
(P.S. I'm sure there was a tiny element of humorous oversimplification in my comment about being middling...it's hard to imagine the amount of testimony that would be required for me to stop believing that what i have to give is as important and irreplaceable as that of anyone ever. Perhaps, however, i'll just have to settle for being the greatest blogger in the history of the universe.)
In some ways the past five years, i've been avoiding producing my plays. Oh, there have been surface reasons...lack of cash to self-produce in this monied town...insisting on a circumstance wherein i can maintain creative control...but the truth is that i've only put minimal effort into producing or publishing. I think i needed the past five years to really explore being a writer. Also, i know that any producer's journey i embark upon may profoundly diminish my output as a writer. I have ten unproduced plays now, most of them products of my time in NY. The further along i go, the more and more i think that the most important contribution i can make to the world is as a writer. Not that i'll ever want to give up acting, but...it seems patently simple to me that to really affect people in the ways i wish, i'll never get there parroting other's words.
Or perhaps i'm just a good actor and a middling playwright, and will need the coming live productions to teach me that.
Either way, it sounds like fun.
(P.S. I'm sure there was a tiny element of humorous oversimplification in my comment about being middling...it's hard to imagine the amount of testimony that would be required for me to stop believing that what i have to give is as important and irreplaceable as that of anyone ever. Perhaps, however, i'll just have to settle for being the greatest blogger in the history of the universe.)
Thursday, April 24, 2008
flex-arm hang
Was there a funnier moment in high school than watching the girls do the flex-arm hang?
You older babes remember it. I'm assuming that this exercise has gone the way of the dodo, but in olden days (for you young'ns and any guys who weren't fortunate enough to catch the show), when it came time for yearly P.E. testing, they made the girls do the flex-arm hang.
It was brilliant. It consisted of having the girls jump up onto the pull-up bar (with or without the aid of a boost), and...hang. That's it. No, really. A gym teacher would be standing nearby with a stopwatch, scoring how many seconds it took each girl to drop. And let me tell you, a lot of them came nowhere near double digits. It looked like nothing so much as flies under a huge can of Raid.
The first time you saw the show, you thought your leg was being pulled. They made us XX types pull ourselves up, an exercise that might actually prove useful one day, when the bridge collapses and you need to haul your own body weight in order to preserve your miserable ass. How much more passive an activity could one concoct than the arm hang? It's the perfect exercise for someone whose ambition is to bide their time waiting to be rescued. It's embarrassing, and i trust that girls like Gabrielle Reece have sent this chestnut to the scrap heap of history.
And no, i'm not picking on the girls. No, it's not their fault that thousands of years of male dominion turned them into little more than cattle. Don't bust my chops, i was a pissed-off feminist when your mommas were wipin' your noses.
But funny is funny. And that flex-arm hang was some funny shit.
The process of returning to women the emotional and physical strength that millenia of slavery have stripped from them, well, this work is only just begun. Standards of beauty still promote weak women (anyone want to place bets on how many seconds Eva Longoria would last on that bar?). Skinny is not attractive. Weakness is not attractive, and if you find a man who thinks that Serena Williams is unattractive, you've probably found a man who is deeply afraid of something.
But that flex-arm was some funny shit.
(P.S. I'm not entirely sure whether there was the teeniest, tiniest element of playful oversimplification in what i just wrote, but somebody's gotta rile the bats out of the cupboard...)
You older babes remember it. I'm assuming that this exercise has gone the way of the dodo, but in olden days (for you young'ns and any guys who weren't fortunate enough to catch the show), when it came time for yearly P.E. testing, they made the girls do the flex-arm hang.
It was brilliant. It consisted of having the girls jump up onto the pull-up bar (with or without the aid of a boost), and...hang. That's it. No, really. A gym teacher would be standing nearby with a stopwatch, scoring how many seconds it took each girl to drop. And let me tell you, a lot of them came nowhere near double digits. It looked like nothing so much as flies under a huge can of Raid.
The first time you saw the show, you thought your leg was being pulled. They made us XX types pull ourselves up, an exercise that might actually prove useful one day, when the bridge collapses and you need to haul your own body weight in order to preserve your miserable ass. How much more passive an activity could one concoct than the arm hang? It's the perfect exercise for someone whose ambition is to bide their time waiting to be rescued. It's embarrassing, and i trust that girls like Gabrielle Reece have sent this chestnut to the scrap heap of history.
And no, i'm not picking on the girls. No, it's not their fault that thousands of years of male dominion turned them into little more than cattle. Don't bust my chops, i was a pissed-off feminist when your mommas were wipin' your noses.
But funny is funny. And that flex-arm hang was some funny shit.
The process of returning to women the emotional and physical strength that millenia of slavery have stripped from them, well, this work is only just begun. Standards of beauty still promote weak women (anyone want to place bets on how many seconds Eva Longoria would last on that bar?). Skinny is not attractive. Weakness is not attractive, and if you find a man who thinks that Serena Williams is unattractive, you've probably found a man who is deeply afraid of something.
But that flex-arm was some funny shit.
(P.S. I'm not entirely sure whether there was the teeniest, tiniest element of playful oversimplification in what i just wrote, but somebody's gotta rile the bats out of the cupboard...)
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
"Muppets from Space"
1999
-directed by Tim Hill
The end may be more than near. The film which may have put this quest to rest is MUPPETS FROM SPACE, the final theatrical release. If the subsequent straight-to-video offerings turn out as lifeless (we MIGHT watch them), then i'm done. It's tempting to not even write about SPACE, really, as it feels like picking on an idiot stepchild.
It starts out promisingly. The first sequence, Gonzo's ark nightmare, with a delightful F. Murray Abraham as Noah, is pretty great. And wakeup time in the Muppet house was okay too. But the film quickly settles into mediocrity. It's not even the kind of mediocrity previous sequels had delved into. MFS feels like the original producers have all been replaced by those hypothetical doofuses they had pulled off the street to voice Statler and Waldorf in TREASURE ISLAND. Brian Henson did indeed abdicate the director's chair to Hill, a man with no Muppet experience and almost no resume (huh?). In Tim's defense (not that he earned any), the writing is worthy of an after-school special. Hill returns to the tradition of a multitude of name actors in supporting roles, and with the exception of Abraham and the sublime Ray Liotta, this is a bad choice, the performances ranging from flat (Rob Schneider) to painful (Kathy Griffin). A couple of kids from DAWSON'S CREEK get in there too. This is the first film to abandon original music. Instead we're given recycled pop songs (huh?). Even though none of the music in the other sequels came close to the original, they'd at least been trying. I hate to invoke something that will just seem like name-calling, but this film felt like nothing else so much as an SNL film. A fun ten-minute idea that never should have been treated as more.
Nobody likes to end a monumental journey on a down note, so i'll patter for a moment. It should be understood that we've only been dealing with films that had the characters from the TV show. Other products like DARK CRYSTAL (pretty lame, and if you disagree you may not have tried to watch it as an adult) or LABYRINTH (the 49th best film of all time) don't fall within these parameters. I've never seen FOLLOW THAT BIRD or EMMET OTTER'S JUG-BAND CHRISTMAS, but as Kermit makes appearances, i may have to rectify that. Particularly EMMET, which Jim directed. It's also well-past time for the dvd release of lost treasures like The Jim Henson Hour, "The Muppets: A Celebration of Thirty Years", the episode of The Tonight Show that Kermit guest hosted, and the staggering multitude of Muppet TV specials that aired. Call your congresspeople.
So out whimpers a quest. The curse of creating something amazing is that everything that follows will always be measured against it. This is at once natural, and unfair. Particularly when new efforts explore different directions, as Jim and crew did. These films, however, brought us the further adventures of our heroes from the first movie, so any abuse the creators receive, well, they stepped right up and invited it, there's no way around that. It is of course obvious to say that none of the sequels came anywhere near the original. That's the given. The deeper truth is that you can't really include any of the sequels in a serious discussion of Muppets onscreen. A recap...
THE MUPPET MOVIE *****
THE GREAT MUPPET CAPER **
THE MUPPETS TAKE MANHATTAN *
A MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL ***
MUPPET TREASURE ISLAND **
MUPPETS FROM SPACE *
Take away the pity star i gave Manhattan (or leave it in, either way), and crunch some numbers. "Ouch" is the only word that comes to mind. But golly, i almost forgot that i promised myself a reward at the end of the journey, a viewing of the original. So really, all is well in the world. Cue the balcony...
STATLER: So, how'd you like the quest?
WALDORF: Quest? I thought this was Thanksgiving Eve.
STATLER: Thanksgiving Eve?
WALDORF: I've never seen so many turkeys run by! (laughter; a horn splats)
-directed by Tim Hill
The end may be more than near. The film which may have put this quest to rest is MUPPETS FROM SPACE, the final theatrical release. If the subsequent straight-to-video offerings turn out as lifeless (we MIGHT watch them), then i'm done. It's tempting to not even write about SPACE, really, as it feels like picking on an idiot stepchild.
It starts out promisingly. The first sequence, Gonzo's ark nightmare, with a delightful F. Murray Abraham as Noah, is pretty great. And wakeup time in the Muppet house was okay too. But the film quickly settles into mediocrity. It's not even the kind of mediocrity previous sequels had delved into. MFS feels like the original producers have all been replaced by those hypothetical doofuses they had pulled off the street to voice Statler and Waldorf in TREASURE ISLAND. Brian Henson did indeed abdicate the director's chair to Hill, a man with no Muppet experience and almost no resume (huh?). In Tim's defense (not that he earned any), the writing is worthy of an after-school special. Hill returns to the tradition of a multitude of name actors in supporting roles, and with the exception of Abraham and the sublime Ray Liotta, this is a bad choice, the performances ranging from flat (Rob Schneider) to painful (Kathy Griffin). A couple of kids from DAWSON'S CREEK get in there too. This is the first film to abandon original music. Instead we're given recycled pop songs (huh?). Even though none of the music in the other sequels came close to the original, they'd at least been trying. I hate to invoke something that will just seem like name-calling, but this film felt like nothing else so much as an SNL film. A fun ten-minute idea that never should have been treated as more.
Nobody likes to end a monumental journey on a down note, so i'll patter for a moment. It should be understood that we've only been dealing with films that had the characters from the TV show. Other products like DARK CRYSTAL (pretty lame, and if you disagree you may not have tried to watch it as an adult) or LABYRINTH (the 49th best film of all time) don't fall within these parameters. I've never seen FOLLOW THAT BIRD or EMMET OTTER'S JUG-BAND CHRISTMAS, but as Kermit makes appearances, i may have to rectify that. Particularly EMMET, which Jim directed. It's also well-past time for the dvd release of lost treasures like The Jim Henson Hour, "The Muppets: A Celebration of Thirty Years", the episode of The Tonight Show that Kermit guest hosted, and the staggering multitude of Muppet TV specials that aired. Call your congresspeople.
So out whimpers a quest. The curse of creating something amazing is that everything that follows will always be measured against it. This is at once natural, and unfair. Particularly when new efforts explore different directions, as Jim and crew did. These films, however, brought us the further adventures of our heroes from the first movie, so any abuse the creators receive, well, they stepped right up and invited it, there's no way around that. It is of course obvious to say that none of the sequels came anywhere near the original. That's the given. The deeper truth is that you can't really include any of the sequels in a serious discussion of Muppets onscreen. A recap...
THE MUPPET MOVIE *****
THE GREAT MUPPET CAPER **
THE MUPPETS TAKE MANHATTAN *
A MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL ***
MUPPET TREASURE ISLAND **
MUPPETS FROM SPACE *
Take away the pity star i gave Manhattan (or leave it in, either way), and crunch some numbers. "Ouch" is the only word that comes to mind. But golly, i almost forgot that i promised myself a reward at the end of the journey, a viewing of the original. So really, all is well in the world. Cue the balcony...
STATLER: So, how'd you like the quest?
WALDORF: Quest? I thought this was Thanksgiving Eve.
STATLER: Thanksgiving Eve?
WALDORF: I've never seen so many turkeys run by! (laughter; a horn splats)
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Tombstone
1) How many men had Wyatt Earp killed when he stepped into the OK Corral?
2) T/F Morgan speaks latin.
3) T/F Ike Clanton is as dumb as he looks.
4) T/F Frank McLaury is a daisy.
5) Who carried a walking stick into the OK Corral?
6) T/F Tyler knew that Doc was back in town.
7) Who is Ringo’s huckleberry?
8) T/F Wyatt heard Ike the first time he said that law didn’t go round there.
Bonus Point: name Tombstone's four Johns.
0-2 correct: I want to play faro with you
3-4 correct: Not as dumb as you look
5-6 correct: You're a force to be reckoned with
7-8 correct: Auntie Anne pretzel on me
9 correct: You're the one
(E-mail me for answers. Address in blog profile.)
2) T/F Morgan speaks latin.
3) T/F Ike Clanton is as dumb as he looks.
4) T/F Frank McLaury is a daisy.
5) Who carried a walking stick into the OK Corral?
6) T/F Tyler knew that Doc was back in town.
7) Who is Ringo’s huckleberry?
8) T/F Wyatt heard Ike the first time he said that law didn’t go round there.
Bonus Point: name Tombstone's four Johns.
0-2 correct: I want to play faro with you
3-4 correct: Not as dumb as you look
5-6 correct: You're a force to be reckoned with
7-8 correct: Auntie Anne pretzel on me
9 correct: You're the one
(E-mail me for answers. Address in blog profile.)
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
peace of gaye
Quick! Who can tell me what Marvin Gaye's final two recordings were?
"Savage in the Sack", and "Masochistic Beauty", from the posthumous album DREAM OF A LIFETIME. This album has been debated and trashed, and for possibly good reasons. It's slapdash, and it's possible that Marvin never intended for any of it to be released. Some have even postulated that Marvin only recorded those two particular songs for in-studio shock value.
But oh my, do i love 'em. I love the thought that they were an alternate exploration of ideas begun in "Let's Get It On" and "Sexual Healing". Any speculation that Marvin didn't intend to release them does not impress me.
They are so erotic that many will find them disgusting and indecent.
It's indecency like that which i adore, when it's honest. The disc came to me through a brother who works at the Tavern on the Green restaurant. He discovered the disc had been playing at the restaurant for a week or two before a customer complained. No employee claimed knowledge of how the disc ended up in rotation. But listen to "Masochistic Beauty", and i dare you to not laugh at the thought of this song playing to patrons at one of the hoity-toitiest restaurants in NYC.
I wish i could send you to a site which has the lyrics. But i could not find such a link. Doesn't it strike you as strange that one would have trouble finding ANY lyrics of an artist of Marvin's stature? It makes me wonder whether the guardians of Gaye's legacy would rather these songs be swept under the rug. And it's not just that the lyrics are compelling and controversial, the songs themselves are great. But lordy, the words just simmer and sear. Particularly "Masochistic Beauty". It's so audaciously bawdy you keep saying to yourself, "Did he just SAY that?" Strong enough stuff to send churchfolk to their knees (and not in the good way, although it might have that effect too). One can't help imagining Marvin's minister father hearing this song, and spinning into the horrible mindset that left the world without a man we very much needed. There's no reason to believe that actually happened, and it's probably simplistic to think about "the straw that broke the camel's back". Most murders are not simple, and that must go a thousand times for a parent taking the life of their grown child.
Has any human ever walked the line between the sacred and the profane as movingly as Marvin?
There is one more song of his that you've possibly never heard, "Piece of Clay", which was released only on the 1961-1984 MASTER anthology. It might be the most moving song he ever recorded. A plea for understanding and tolerance, it should be more chilling when you realize how he died...but it's not really, it's just so beautiful and universal and sad and true.
Everybody wants someone to be their own piece of clay.
I love you all.
"Savage in the Sack", and "Masochistic Beauty", from the posthumous album DREAM OF A LIFETIME. This album has been debated and trashed, and for possibly good reasons. It's slapdash, and it's possible that Marvin never intended for any of it to be released. Some have even postulated that Marvin only recorded those two particular songs for in-studio shock value.
But oh my, do i love 'em. I love the thought that they were an alternate exploration of ideas begun in "Let's Get It On" and "Sexual Healing". Any speculation that Marvin didn't intend to release them does not impress me.
They are so erotic that many will find them disgusting and indecent.
It's indecency like that which i adore, when it's honest. The disc came to me through a brother who works at the Tavern on the Green restaurant. He discovered the disc had been playing at the restaurant for a week or two before a customer complained. No employee claimed knowledge of how the disc ended up in rotation. But listen to "Masochistic Beauty", and i dare you to not laugh at the thought of this song playing to patrons at one of the hoity-toitiest restaurants in NYC.
I wish i could send you to a site which has the lyrics. But i could not find such a link. Doesn't it strike you as strange that one would have trouble finding ANY lyrics of an artist of Marvin's stature? It makes me wonder whether the guardians of Gaye's legacy would rather these songs be swept under the rug. And it's not just that the lyrics are compelling and controversial, the songs themselves are great. But lordy, the words just simmer and sear. Particularly "Masochistic Beauty". It's so audaciously bawdy you keep saying to yourself, "Did he just SAY that?" Strong enough stuff to send churchfolk to their knees (and not in the good way, although it might have that effect too). One can't help imagining Marvin's minister father hearing this song, and spinning into the horrible mindset that left the world without a man we very much needed. There's no reason to believe that actually happened, and it's probably simplistic to think about "the straw that broke the camel's back". Most murders are not simple, and that must go a thousand times for a parent taking the life of their grown child.
Has any human ever walked the line between the sacred and the profane as movingly as Marvin?
There is one more song of his that you've possibly never heard, "Piece of Clay", which was released only on the 1961-1984 MASTER anthology. It might be the most moving song he ever recorded. A plea for understanding and tolerance, it should be more chilling when you realize how he died...but it's not really, it's just so beautiful and universal and sad and true.
Everybody wants someone to be their own piece of clay.
I love you all.
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