'Icarus, Part 2' Lyrics

When I get too close, I burn myself
It reminds me not to fly too high
When I feel that itch, I touch my scars
Remembering the 'who's', 'when's' and 'why's'
I beat the dust off my wings; I flap myself silly
Unwrap myself, really; till you're high enough to feel me
Over the mountains and the plains, the seas and the surf
Now, you can fly on your own or you can crash back to Earth
I learned from the mistakes and the lessons of my Father
He flew high, close to the Sun, but not to the author
Me? I feel the heat and retreat.
I ain't scared of nothing, but I know when I'm beat
I'll always heed the teachings of dear ol' Dad
Never trying out my wings when I'm drunk or I'm mad
I catch updrafts; a nod, a laugh
A smile; a trained response on my behalf
I'm tryin'; flying between divine and dying
Over the jagged rocks and the canyon dividing
I'm flyin'; It gets me that much further away
Or closer. I'm finding where to land and stay
I'm flyin'; with no real destination
Just a thrill in knowing you would kill for this sensation
I'm tryin'; navigating currents, curve, and turns
Over the graveyards, acknowledging what I have learned.


(Verse 2)

It was the freedom wings provided that made me haft try it
It was the yearning that made me do that fly shit
I didn't need 'em; but I am pleased with the reminders
And the burning isn't coming as long as I glide it
That ain't me, I'm going higher, further, faster
Serving up a passion, flirting with disaster
Contact my girl, my aunt, uncle and pastor
Is this what I would've wanted; ask her.
In the case that I may disappear into the ether
Make sure you tell everyone I said to stay a believer
I'll see ya when I see ya...
I'm eight miles high, tracking the birds, and I'll leave ya
A nice tailwind and a sonic boom
A perfect launching pad in this empty room
A strange time for takeoff, but it's flight or doom
When I depart, it won't be a moment too soon
Higher and higher, hoping to wake the slumbering Moon
The Dawn aspires to fire me into the lap of Neptune
Faster; wings keeping beat, heart in time and tune
You could never understand cuz you've never seen the view
Watch me; soon enough, I'm a ghost on the horizon
Into the great unknown where nothing's surprising
And nothing's shocking; believe it, I'm not dropping
I'm flying; over your home and back without stopping.

DJ RUSTY REDENBACHER - 'HIGHWAY MUSIC, Pts. 1 and 2'' (FREE DOWNLOAD)

There are just certain Songs that sound GREAT in the car to me. It isn't because of how they make the speakers vibrate or the way the instruments are panned. They just remind me of the car...specifically the passenger side of my Daddy's Maxima. Some of these are Songs I know I love because my Daddy would hum along to them in the car, which meant they HAD to be cool. Some of them are Songs that I played for him when he finally realized that he had in fact, refined my taste in Music from a distance. Tim and Marc had the Funk covered, with Tim eventually becoming the Uncle to talk to about Jazz. My Daddy was a total mixed-bag. He liked everything, as long as the shit was jammin'. (There's a couple on here, I think he woulda dug had he been around to hear them...)

He had really wild, diverse taste, as far as Music was concerned. I scooped a lotta records every time I went to Gary for the summer. Records that were sitting in the closet, records that I asked him if could take home (that he signed as if he was the Artist on the record!) records I knew he wanted to keep but would give up for the kid...heck, they had my name on 'em, too.

So here's some travelling Music, in two parts...cuz we had a buncha tapes in the whip! (and a little bit of road-rage thrown in for idiots passing on the right. GET OUTTA MY BLIND SPOT THEN, YOU EEEEEDIOT!)



MP3:

DJ RUSTY REDENBACHER - 'Highway Music, Pt. 1 (nighttime..there)' < click there and smell the spirit if industry in the air! Ahhhh...steel mill fresh!

Playlist:

'Roundabout' - Yes
'She Sells Sanctuary' - The Cult
'Molly's Chambers' - Kings Of Leon
'25 Or 6 To 4' - Chicago
'Coming Up' - Paul McCartney and Wings
'One Thing Leads To Another' - The Fixx
'Girl's Got Rhythm' - AC/DC
'Rio' - Duran Duran
'Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress' - The Hollies
'Stop Me If You Think You Heard This One Before' - The Smiths
'Province' - TV On The Radio
'Down By The Sea' - Men At Work

DJ RUSTY REDENBACHER - 'Highway Music, Pt. 2 (daytime, the ride back)' < click there and lean the seat back.

'Just A Touch Of Love' - Slave
'Give Me The Night' - George Benson
'Never Too Much' - Luther Vandross
'I'll Be Around' - The Spinners
'That Lady' - The Isley Brothers
'Do You Love What You Feel?' - Rufus and Chaka Khan
'You're The One For Me' - D-Train
'Disco Nights (Rock, Freak) - GQ
'777-9311' - The Time
'Erotic City' - Prince
'Be Your Man' - Jesse Johnson's Revue
'The Glamorous Life' - Sheila E.

Cassius Clay Shakes Up The World.

About a year ago, I was talking with someone about The Greatest. She told me that she had a brother in Iraq and she had no respect for Ali because of his stance against the Vietnam War. I read her the riot act, told her to look at the situation again, and rethink some of the epithets that she was hurling about so flippantly. She was young. I wasn't that mad about it, but you will not speak badly of Muhammad Ali in front of me. I adore the man and everything he stands for. She might as well have been talking about someone in my family; my immediate family, even.

(...and he loves his country, even though he's "always getting blamed for things he didn't do!" Ya can't say the guy doesn't have a great sense of humor.)



I could talk about Ali all day. I've read books about him. I study clips of him. He is the single most important athlete of this or any other generation, not just for what he did in the ring but for what he did and represented outside of the ring. I watch the old fights and imagine how incredible his first run as champion would've been had he been allowed to fight in the ring for the years he was speaking out against an unjust war. I watch his wars with Joe Frazier and am aghast at the ferocity of his will. I watch his interviews and press-conferences and see one of the Godfathers of Rap ("If you wanna lose your money, bet on Sonny.", When times are as they are now, we could use another Muhammad Ali. Unfortunately, the man is simply one-of-a-kind. We will never see another phenomenon like Muhammad Ali. His physical gifts were baffling, his wit is amazing, his strength of character is astounding...there is no one on Earth like Muhammad Ali and there never will be again. Quote me.

Some folks may see Ali clips and hear nothing but braggadocio and ranting. Nooooo, people; everything this man said had a purpose. EVERYTHING. May I define 'Grace' for you? This eloquent, intelligent, brilliant, charismatic man is now the victim of a disease that makes it so he cannot speak clearly or move with any kind of fluidity, THIS man of all people, and he still regularly travels the world as an ambassador of peace and goodwill. His mind is as sharp as ever, his body has betrayed him. Yet and still, Ali travels the world, making children laugh with magic tricks, mugging for cameras and 'slap-boxing' with reporters. He is The Greatest. I love this man, Muhammad Ali. He was a hero of my Father and that is something I am very glad picked up from My Old Man.

I'll share a clip I uploaded to Youtube a day or two ago. I have watched this clip probably a thousand times. It brings me joy every time I see it. Listen and watch The Greatest...



People, people, people! I used to watch that because I simply loved hearing the Brother flow! Awww...man! There is stuff in there I say to this day!

"I'm a baaaaad man!"

"I'm the prettiest thing that ever lived!"

"I told the world! I talk to God every day! If God is with me, can't nobody beat me!"

"I am the greatest!"

"I shook up the world and I want justice! I want justice!"

"Ohhhh, I shook all of ya up!"

"I'm through talkin'. You write the results."

Now, I watch that clip and I see something entirely different, because I have a better vision of what the world and America was like. I see a 22 year-old Blackman in 1964, who was just crowned 'Heavyweight Champion Of The World', against astounding odds. Do we even need to talk about the state of civil-rights in America in 1964? And this young man has the attention of the world, so what does he do? He gives young people about 20 new catch-phrases of self-empowerment. "I AM THE GREATEST!" When did a kid in the ghetto have a chance to see a Blackman announce that on TV before that fight? "I'm PRETTY!" I'd bet dollars to donuts that 'Black Is Beautiful' became the movement during the 60's and 70's partially because of this 'rant'. "I SHOOK UP THE WORLD!" He was just getting started; Cassius Clay announced to the world the next day that he was a Black Muslim and he would now be called 'Muhammad Ali'. WOW. That must have terrified some people. It also must have empowered a lotta people. What I see in that is 'I am not what YOU will make me. I am what I make me. And I say "I am the GREATEST!".

If you will look to Ali's right, you'll see Joe Louis, former Heavyweight Champion of The World. Please note that Ali is not trying to give him a look or a word. I believe Joe Louis represented old ways of thinking, old ways of boxing. Clay knew that he was really gonna shake up the world the next day. The non-communication between Louis, at the time thought of as, arguably, the greatest heavyweight that lived and Ali, the new way of thinking (speed, movement, SPEAK YO' MIND), the new prototype, the new Blackman speaks volumes. "This is MY time, Joe; no disrespect, but while I have everyone's attention, I am gonna make the most of it." Ain't nobody quoting Joe Louis, man. (just keeping it real. No disrespect.)

This 'rant' was as much a political statement as it was a victory celebration. Clay changed the way people felt about a lotta things in such a short time. He is to boxing what Jimi Hendrix is to the guitar. He transcends everything he is involved in by just being 'Muhammad Ali, The Greatest.' He made people more tolerant by sheer force of will. He kickstarted the 'Peace Movement'. He won the Heavyweight Title three times, kiddies. THREE. When people tell me about how we need to 'get those Muslims', I remind them that Muhammad Ali is a Muslim. What that sereves to do is (usually) get a conversation started about tolerance, acceptance, and understanding. This is what Muhammad Ali means to me.

He is a hero in every sense of the word. I am so thankful that one of my Daddy's heroes is one of mine. There are not many people you can say that about. Thank you, Ali. You are truly 'THE GREATEST'.

My Father's Child.

I'm tryin'...

Today is Father's Day. My Dad has been gone for a long time now; you'd think I would be over it or would deal with it better. I ain't. I trick myself all the time, saying that I can deal with the fact that he's gone, but there were a lotta questions left unanswered and a lotta issues unresolved.

I get so fucking mad when I think about how my Dad died. 

Alone. Stupidly. Needlessly.

I've been spending a lotta time alone lately, but not for the same kindsa reasons my Dad did. I am very seriously looking at my Life and trying to see some kinda future. I don't believe my Daddy was able to do that. I think he felt like everything good was behind him, but I was right here praying and waiting for some kinda miracle, some kinda hope to jump into his chest to make him see that I was right fucking here. We were all right fucking here and we all loved him. Shit.

He didn't have to go.

Decisions my Father made and things my Father taught me in the '70's have been affecting me my whole life and will continue to affect me my whole life. I don't know if he realized how much power he had or how impressionable I was; I really thought he was Superman. I believed in Superman until I was in my teens. My Dad would risk his life to save strangers, so the fact that he didn't have the same kinda love for himself will always bother me.  He still has some of that superhero aura to me, however I am old enough now to know that there ain't no Superman and if there was, he STILL has to stay away from Kryptonite. Superman woulda been smart enough to know that.

From a distance, it was so easy for me to fill in the holes with tales of how good he was doing. The last visual memory I have of my Daddy ain't great. Firstly, it was on a day that shoulda been absolutely beautiful and the sight of my Dad shocked me. While I was glad to see him, he looked like shit. His hair was unkempt, his clothes were ruffled, he looked swollen. He didn't look like my Daddy at all, but I knew it was him. I hadn't seen him in a bout two years at that point. I didn't even know if he was coming, so I was genuinely surprised to see him. I was just as surprised by his appearance. My Dad was always sharp; a good dresser, awesome frames for his glasses, great haircut. This dude who looked like he hadn't seen a barber in months (and didn't seem to be worried about it) couldn't have been my Daddy. I saw that cool-ass walk though and I knew damn well who that was. 

"THAT'S MY DADDY!" I didn't give a damn how he looked. He made it. I was overjoyed.

I was in a room upstairs, staring outta the window at my Old Man when he was strolling in to take his seat. I tapped on the pane with my keys. He looked up and I saw my Daddy's beautiful hazel/grey/green eyes, the eyes I was always mad that I didn't inherit from him and my Grandpa Doats. I waved like the little boy that used to wait by the door and listen for his car to pull up to take me away to 'wonderful, magical, Gary, Indiana' when I was a kid. He didn't have on his glasses. My Dad always had some playa-playa glasses, dark-tinted lenses, great taste in frames. I believe he did that on purpose cuz when he took his glasses off, he could look you in the eye and take your breath away.



I think it was the element of surprise when he removed his glasses that he dug, at least I woulda dug that.

That day was supposed to be the start of the rest of my Life, my next phase of this beautiful Life. Everything was in place. Everybody was there to see it happen. My Mama and Daddy were together in the same place for the first time in years. I have two pictures of them together from that day, the last day I saw my Father alive. The last time I saw my Father's eyes. 

She loved him like she loved no one else in her life, I know that. She told me. She also told me that the best thing to happen to her was me and he was obviously a part of that. We were always so thankful to have each other. She always knew how much I loved her back. I went outta my way to make sure she knew that. We were each other's 'rock'. I would do anything for my Mama. ANYthing. 

Three weeks after that day, my Father was dead. Dead in the crib, alone. Stupidly. Carelessly.

I love the shit outta my Daddy, but distance, time, and some really bad decisions he made, made it so I couldn't show that same love for him that I could show my Mama. I couldn't offer everything that I wanted to willingly. And I sooooooo wanted to, dammit. DAMMIT.

I don't like Father's Day, because I never had a chance to show that love, especially on this day. And I never will get a chance. My Dad is gone, man. We never had a real 'Father's Day breakfast' or nothing like that. I think of my Uncle Bebe and remember all the driving back-and-forth he did from Atlanta to Gary, checking in on his Daddy and eventually moving him to Georgia when it was necessary. I think of how highly he spoke of his Daddy and how highly I speak of my Daddy, still, even when I feel like I feel today. Even when I feel like he really fucked-up big-time and Father's Day is gonna bug me forever.

I am so my Mother's Child, because while I am mad as hell at that man, I love him so much that I can't let go of some things. It's the accepting that is killing me right now. I accepted the fact that he and I were always gonna have differences. I have accepted the fact that he came with a lotta baggage and problems. I am having a hard time accepting the fact that we'll never ever ever ever get to work on them. This is the one day a year where I am gonna sit here and be hurt because I earned it. I worked for every tear. It's my own fault; I sold myself the dream that I was gonna, at some point in my adult life, get to spend incredible quality-time with my Daddy, like Bebe did. 

It was gonna be good, I knew that in my heart. It never happened and now it can't.

7 years of this shit, man, every Father's Day. I wake up with nobody to call, no card to buy, no tie to match with a shirt. Uncles count, though. I got mad friends with kids. I stumble my way through the holiday, but the sting of his absence is omnipresent. My memories of the last time I saw him bounce around my head. I am grateful for all the Great Men that have been in my life; I've had a excellent support-system, from Great-Grandfathers to Uncles, that have filled in so many gaps over the years. I'm so thankful, truly. 

But, I ain't named after them, I don't look exactly like them, I don't have their mannerisms and quirks. My Dad's blood courses through my veins, fiercely. I am constantly reminded how much I remind people of him. I sound like him, I laugh like him. That's my Daddy and I will never get a chance to let him know exactly how much I loved him.

I am so my Father's Child and there is nothing that can ever take that from me. I'm hurt as hell, because I love my Daddy and he ain't here. I am reminded of that every time I look in the mirror and see my Mother's eyes missing him, but today is the day that it hurts the most.

Slug and Ant, thank you so much for this album and this song...there's millions of Us out here.

I really miss you, Daddy. I love you, Daddy. Happy Father's Day.



Li'l Russell