It was 10F this morning, which relative to recent temperatures, was arse cold. The slush from yesterday’s thaw had frozen overnight, so I had a hell of a time getting my car out, because my tires were stuck in ice.
I ended up being just late enough for work that the sun was starting to rise as while I drove east to Bloomington. It started as a slight lightening, but by the time I got to town, there was a narrow band of deep orange hugging the horizon. As I was driving into Bloomington, Bruce Cockburn’s The Rose Above the Sky came on.
I’d always associated that song with sunsets, partly because of the imagery of the lyrics, and partly because the song–for me, at least–is simultaneously sad and uplifting. It makes a lovely sunrise soundtrack, as well.
I discovered Bruce Cockburn when I was in high school. I was babysitting one night, and after the kids had gone to bed, I had MTV playing while I studied. They were debuting the video for Madonna’s Like a Virgin, so it was playing nearly non-stop. Sandwiched between repeated airings of Madge’s décolletage was a video for If I Had a Rocket Launcher. I was hooked (on Bruce, not Madge’s breasts). The next day, I went to Stonehenge, the local hippie head shop & record store, and spent my babysitting money on Humans and Stealing Fire. I think I probably spent more time listening to those two albums than any others during the rest of my high school years.
It’s weird. I didn’t know anyone else who had even heard of Bruce Cockburn, much less anyone who listened to his music. So, while it was the 80s, and I was listening to the standard Velveeta fair, I was also listening to Bruce Cockburn. It was like a weird, secret influence that no one else in my group of friends knew about. They were listening to Depeche Mode and the Petshop Boys and I was listening to Canadian folk-y-ish music with decidedly spiritual overtones (I really don’t know where I’d place him genre-wise). I like Depeche Mode, mind you, but their music didn’t make me think or feel. Bruce’s did. And does.
I still don’t know anyone who listens to Bruce Cockburn, though I did have an odd Bruce encounter with complete strangers once. A coworker was going through my CDs at work, and commented that friends of hers were going to see Bruce play in Indianapolis. She gave me their phone number, and I called and asked if I could tag along. (Keep in mind that I am pathologically phone-phobic and I’m not too keen on hanging out with strangers.) They said sure, so I went to Indy with a couple of strange–in more ways than one–Canadians to see Bruce play. It was an absolutely amazing show. I recall him saying, between songs, that Canadians only sing about social issues and love. He does both, and does them well.
red paper boat 