Today’s song is on here as a cri de coeur. Sometimes this is
the best song to express how I feel. “Feelin’ Alright?” was made famous by Joe
Cocker and has been recorded and covered by numerous people. I heard Cocker’s
version first, but he does it as a funkier song, which is fine, and when I’m in
the mood for that, it’s good to go there. But later I heard and became much
more familiar with the original version by Traffic on their second LP Traffic
(1968), sung by Dave Mason, who wrote it.
Mason does it slower and more meditative; it almost sounds
like it begins in medias res, as if there were something earlier that you
missed and we’re fading in on it: “Seems I’ve got to have a change of scene.” That’s
an understatement, and it’s also a big blues statement (see Muddy Waters,
yesterday) where the singer know he’s got to be movin’ on. But the way Mason
develops this idea is fun: “Every night I have the strangest dream / Imprisoned
by the way things could’ve been / Left here on my own or so it seems / I’ve got
to leave before I start to scream / But someone’s locked the door and took the
key.” Here the need to leave, that great
blues longing, gets complicated by dreams and what could’ve been, by being left
alone when one needs help, and by a sense of agoraphobia closing in. Got to go,
but locked in.
The chorus, of course, keeps up a nice irony: first of all
it sounds peppy and if you aren’t paying much attention you could think the
singer is asserting that he’s “feeling alright”—how nice!—but in fact he’s
asking if you’re feelin’ alright, then telling you “I’m not feelin’ too good
myself.” As in: oh, so we’re being honest and talking about how we really feel? Why didn’t you say so?
And that’s part of what I love about the song: it is about
how you really feel. “Not too good.”
Dave Mason, Steve Winwood, Chris Wood, Jim Capaldi |
The second verse isn’t as good, or isn’t as unusual: someone
took him for “one big ride”—I do like the line “and even now I sit and wonder
why,” which speaks to that meditative quality I like—but he can’t think about
her because he’ll cry, and then the great part: he can’t waste his time on this and her lies, “’cause there’s too
much to do before I die.” It’s existential misery that’s working this guy over,
not just some chick he can’t forget! All this heartbreak is just camouflaging
the real misery: life! You’re gonna die someday, buddy, and what you gonna do
till then?
Now we’re much more in synch with his plaint. And the song is
starting to crank up as the funkier aspects that Cocker and others pick up on
starts to come to the fore. We’re really getting anxious now. Then the great
verse.
“Don’t get too lost in all I say / Though at the time I
really felt that way / But that was then, and now it’s today / Can’t get off
yet and so I’m here to stay / Till someone comes along and takes my place /
With a different name and, yes, a different face.”
So now we see the changeable nature of time. This guy’s
affections, moods, states of mind aren’t permanent because, guess what, nothing
is. That was then, y’know. Then, when he looks forward he arrives at the
idea that he’s stuck on the wheel until someone comes to take his place.
Someone different (could be a later version of himself, granted)—which feeds
into that notion that someone else will be “her baby now,” as they say, but
seems to posit someone else actually taking his place in this purgatorial
space, freeing him for the Great Beyond. Which is devoutly to be wished, I
assume.
Then the band really shows what they can do. Chris Wood’s
sax is prickly, none of that mellowness the instrument is famed for; and Jim
Capaldi’s congas fuel the funk, and, throughout, there’s been Steve Winwood’s
piano which is kind of barrelhouse phased through more classical intonations,
and I love that little bass roll before “Don’t get too lost.” Now these guys are going to take it on home
with a rave up on the idea of “feelin’ alright” and “not feelin’ too good”
(hear how Mason starts riffing on “too good, too good”) and eventually we start
feeling pretty damn good. The real kicker to me is when Winwood, on backing vocals,
starts holding that high note: “allllllright, aaalllllright,
alllllri-iii-iight.” And there you have
it, friends, a great band with a great song. One for the books.
And, yeah, I’m not feeling too good myself. And there are
enough lines in this song that can be deemed applicable. Take your pick.
It may just be the mood that Melville describes at the
beginning of Moby-Dick. But I’m not a seaman, so all I can do is get in the car
and drive. It still amazes me how that actually helps, sometimes. Leaving town
tomorrow, so, well, we’ll see . . . .
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