One of my favourite albums of all time, and arguably my favourite compilation album, is called And Someone Left the Cake Out in the Rain, the classic songs of Jimmy Webb. The record includes performances by the likes of Richard Harris (MacArthur Park), the Four Tops (Do What You Gotta Do) and the Johnny Mann Singers (Up, Up & Away), all beautiful songs. But the ones that really stand out are the ones performed by Glen Campbell who has died aged 81.
Galveston, the powerful song about the solider fighting in a distant war, fearing he may not survive (“Galveston, oh Galveston: I am so afraid of dying”), By the Time I Get To Phoenix, a song about a broken relationship as the man drives away, albeit in a nonsensical route and, in my opinion the greatest of them all, Wichita Lineman.
Even as a child, the lyrics of the song painted pictures in my mind of the lonely lineman, high on the telegraph pole, keeping the system working whilst dreaming about his girl who is at home. At the end of this blogpost I shall paste a wonderful, evocative piece about the meaning of the song which was not written by me.
Whilst Campbell’s career high points were in the 1960s, where he recorded his finest music, performed as a session player for numerous artists – he was a gifted guitar player – and even as a touring member of the Beach Boys when Brian Wilson stopped touring, his renaissance in the 1970s with his Rhinestone Cowboy and Southern Nights brought his music to an entirely new generation and his legacy was confirmed. And then, in 2011, Campbell shared with the world the tragic news that he was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Courageously, he toured the world after the diagnosis, with the aid of TV prompters and monitors and whilst his brain functions were increasingly limited, his singing and guitar playing were undimmed. He even produced a new album, Ghost on the Canvas, which was worth listening to on its own merits.
As Campbell’s condition deteriorated, he left the public gaze but in June 2017 his final album, Adios, recorded in 2012 and 2013, was released. I have not heard it in its entirety, but I have heard enough to suggest that again it stands up to scrutiny and can be placed alongside his earlier work. Then, late last night, came the news that Glen Campbell had died.
I know what Alzheimer’s is and what it does so I would say that Campbell’s death was a blessing and a deliverance to both Campbell and his family. I will not speculate on his condition during the final years of his life but it would not have been pleasant. Long before the end, he would have lost the ability to communicate, to recognise anyone, to know even who he was.
Glen Campbell leaves a back catalogue of some of the best music ever made and, in Wichita Lineman, arguably one of the greatest songs ever written, sung by one of the greatest singers ever to draw breath.
Rest in peace, Glen; suffer no more. And thank you for the music. What follows are not my words, but I wish they were. They were written by ‘Yachtsman’ in 2012 on a relatively obscure website.
I envision the Wichita lineman is now deep into March or early April after having endured a horrific winter of cold winds, heavy snows and many sleepless nights of emergency call; he’s now driving down the mainroad alone the highest towers staring southward into the low angled sun beating on the wires as he checks the transformers for overload indicator lights and any signs of line damage or fallen trees from the harsh winter snow.
He knows that he needs a vacation with his woman, but refuses to yield to the pleasure of the thought for too long because the dark clouds on the horizon “don’t look like rain” and “if it snows that stretch down south, won’t ever stand the strain.” And he turns dutifully turns south heading straight into the coming storm, and mentally prepares for another cold, windy, sleepless night, working hard at his thankless job.
And when he’s up on that tower working the line with his cold rough hands, he finds solace hearing her voice in the whine of the wires as the howling wind blows through them and the intense voltage hums steadily through the wires–through all of this he listens to her song, her haunted voice sings out while his frozen fingers work hard. Thoughts of her aches within his soul, and he wants her for all time, but like so many men, working hard to make a living and provide for her in ways continue to be just beyond grasp, his “need” for her, and to be a great provider and hard worker, exceeds his “wants” of sensual fulfillment.
I see a hard working man who “needs” deep inside to express love to his woman in the way that most men do, by providing for her and working hard. I’m sure that he needs a long, long vacation, but doesn’t even allow himself such luxuries of thought, only willing to admit needing a little break for a “small vacation”. Like so many men, he dreams of being with her forever in a better place if he can just save a little more, work just little harder for a little longer… “And I need you more than want you” does not mean that he does not want her, obviously he wants her deeply, he thinks about her all the time. This is about choices, he is choosing to be away from her, and the most common reason for a man is to work hard to provide a better life for her. I feel that his basic need is to be a great provider for the love of his life.
