SONG: “Octopus Gloves”. (OGG version)
ARTIST: grant.
SOURCE: Science News 13 July 2022, “This octopus-inspired glove helps humans grip slippery objects,” as used in the post Octopus gloves. They grab things better..
ABSTRACT: I think this song sounds better than most. I hope it does.
I knew this month I was going to do something on the octopus gloves as soon as I saw that story. There are all sorts of things slipping away from us all the time, and having something that can help us just hold on is… well, it’s a mood, isn’t it.
So I had a few tracks down, fiddling around with a qin soundfont and some kind of jazzy chromatic thing that descended in a sort of torch-song way, and was sort of tweaking that and thinking about words.
And then I heard that Bernard had died.
We’d been friends since the BBS days of the mid-90s, before there was really a worldwide web, before I’d ever typed the letters “http” in front of a colon. He’d come watch me at open mics, and I’d go watch him at poetry slams, and I guess he stuck with it and I stuck with it for more than 20 years. We’re both the type that refuses to entirely grow up. He moved out to Arizona a while back, but we still saw each other every so often. Went to Burning Man together before all of us got priced out of that party.
He’d developed some heart problems and at one point had a valve from a pig’s heart transplanted into his own, which is pretty wild science from the perspective of someone of my age, and he wrote a pretty decent poem to the pig. It’s here: “Some Pig” (or, not on Facebook, here). He promised the pig he’d make his living worthwhile, and he did.
He traveled. He became certified as a scuba diver, then a dive instructor, and – always dedicated to a good cause – he became a shark conservationist. He dove with sharks in South Africa and the South Pacific, and here in South Florida. He wrote about sharks, raised money for sharks, defended sharks whenever and however he could. If we – if I – only had some way to hang onto him, he’d still be doing a lot of good.
So this song, I thought, well, I wanted to do something for Bernard. I junked everything and did this old school. This is the first song in probably more than a decade I haven’t recorded with a click track. The drums are not loops – they’re all triggered samples (oo, not lo-fi) but they’re triggered by me playing each part, kick, snare, tom, hi-hat, ride cymbal, by tapping on the back of my guitar. I wanted that dynamic feel. There’s a mellotron in there. A couple of electric guitars. A bass. It’s a pop song like the ones I was writing in the 1990s.
The words: There’s the Paul Simon advice to always start with a true thing and work out from there. Well, I like lettuce on my pizza. (Just try it – an undressed salad, fold it between two slices like a sandwich. It’s great.) And I like remembering the way Bernard jumped out of our vehicle as soon as we pulled into Black Rock City when we took him to his first Burning Man. We had to run after him to lecture him about not wandering off in one of the world’s driest areas without a water bottle. He was gung ho! Saw the lights and the action and knew that’s where he wanted to be!
If I only had the gloves that could hang onto him before he slipped away, you know?
LYRICS:
(Dsus2) I like lettuce on my pizza
(Em – Cmaj7) And the way you jumped out of our car
Without a water bottle
In the middle of NevadaI like reading about sharks
And the cages holding divers
So thirsty for the deep
So long as they keep swimming, they’re alive
We’re alive(G) And when the lights are growing dim
(A) And the tanks are nearly empty
(F#) It’s either nitrogen narcosis or
(Bm – A) This tentacle attempting
(G) To slip you far beneath
(A) the bottom feeders and the bubbles
(Bm ) Beyond the (C#) sticky (D) fingers
Of my (G) octopus gloves… (G)
(F# – F# – B-A)
I’m wearing (G) octopus gloves… (G)
(F# – F# – Dsus2 / Em/A-Cmaj7)They say the fires that burn brightest
They won’t burn out underwater
And the pig that you rode in on
Was not so greasy once we caught herAnd you took her to the mountains
And the islands and the desert
And she took you up on stage
You swore you never would forget her
Never forgetCH
BR:
(C) Sometimes we’d talk about black wings
(Am) pretend we knew some vampires
(Em) Because nothing dies forever
(C) Wearing trenchcoats in black leather
(Am) In the sun, the moon, the weathermen
(Em) Read cards from fortunetellers
(C) Leaving 13 on the table
(Am) Hot and dry, conditions stable
(G) As the cat slips from the cradle
(F) And night descends.
(A)And when the lights are growing dim
And the tanks are nearly empty
It’s either nitrogen narcosis or
Black tentacles attempting
To slip you far beneath
the bottom feeders and the bubbles
Beyond the sticky fingers
Of my octopus gloves…
Reach for my octopus gloves…
Grab on my octopus gloves…
Someone get octopus gloves …
(F# – F# – B-A)
and pull us back (D) up.