Posted on 05/30/2003 1:58:51 PM PDT by weegee
Best of Baghdad: What Tunes Reporters Listened To 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door' Was Favorite
By Craig Nelson
Some people have their favorite "desert island discs." Reporters in Baghdad had music-to-listen-to-bombs-by.
Music was a major diversion for the 300-odd foreign reporters covering the war in Iraq from the capital city. At the Palestine Hotel we played it using mini-speakers, disc-players and 20-gigabyte Apple iPods bought during layovers at Heathrow or in Dubai's glistening shopping malls. We played it while we wrote and filed pictures. We also played it at deadline, as we decided whether to throw ourselves or our insubordinate laptops and satellite phones off our hotel balconies.
But most of all, we played it as shock waves from nearby explosions shook our 17-story hotel to its foundation and we were face-to-face with the question of whether those "smart" bombs and missiles were going to suffer a momentary lapse of intelligence.
Why do many reporters under wartime stress listen to music so obsessively? One answer is that reporters, photographers and television cameramen -- "hacks," "snappers" and "shooters," respectively -- are obsessive about everything. They must be, or deadlines are missed, equipment breaks down and the magical quote or picture slips into the ether, never to be recorded.
For some, music is a talisman, and the more the bullets and bombs fly, the more we cling to our songs as though they possess magic powers that will somehow pull us through. With anarchy always threatening, no reporter begrudges others their good-luck charms. As one put it: "Forget the rabbit's foot; you can walk around with the whole damn rabbit, as far as I'm concerned. Whatever gets you through."
For others, music is what helps them deal with fear. "Playing Metallica, Guns 'n' Roses or any rock music very loud when you're driving into a bad situation helps calm your nerves and helps you concentrate," one said. "You can't work when you're scared."
Music also softens the edge of the emptiness and exhaustion that invariably follows the suffering, destruction and bloodshed firsthand. "The blues, along with the Chieftains and any traditional Irish music, helps me come off the high slowly," another reporter said. "It's emotionally painful to careen from one extreme to another."
Following, then, are the results of my random survey back at the hotel during the bombing:
Sean Smith, photographer, The Guardian, London, chose "Walk on By," by Dionne Warwick, "Say a Little Prayer," by Burt Bachrach and Hal David, and Johnny Cash's album Live at Folsom Prison. "I have this completely absurd idea that everyone would stand together here, a bit like the Blues Brothers," he said, "and sing these songs plus 'What the World Needs Now Is Love, Sweet Love.' I think there's too much testosterone here."
Scott Peterson, correspondent and photographer, The Christian Science Monitor: "When I have a major piece, or have done so much preparatory work that the actual writing simply requires enough beat-driven white noise to titillate my brain, then I just line up all the Oasis albums in a row, switching from time to time to every and any Green Day album."
Robert Collier, correspondent, San Francisco Chronicle: Iraqi singer Kazem el-Saher and the late Umm Kulthoum, "the goddess" of Arab music. "This music is completely foreign," he said. "In a situation like this, you can't try to hold on to your old world. It's too distracting. It makes me daydream. I don't want anything that reminds me of home, friends, family and past experiences. I have to dive into where I am."
Monica Garcia, correspondent, El Mundo, Madrid: Mozart's Requiem and Handel's Dixit Dominus. "Perfect music for every war," she said. "It's like therapy."
Bob Graham, correspondent, Daily Mail, London: Mozart's clarinet quartets, Van Morrison's Astral Weeks and anything by violinist Nigel Kennedy ("Gentle, anything gentle.")
My choice? Miles Davis' Kind of Blue will soothe the soul anytime and anywhere. But in Baghdad, my vote goes to two songs by Bob Dylan. With the hotel shaking under your feet from the concussions of bombs falling nearby, "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" and "Shelter from the Storm" played back-to-back -- and over and over again -- amplifies your deepest fears and yearnings.
Imagine warplanes rocketing overhead in darkness, and the world around you burning in an Armageddon of thunder, glare and destruction. Then listen to Dylan plead: Momma, put my guns in the ground/I can't shoot them anymore/That long black cloud is comin' down/I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door.
Then dream about an end to the bedlam and being changed irrevocably by all you've seen. And think about the one who loves you. Click to Dylan again: Well I've heard newborn babies/Cryin' like a morning dove/And old men with broken teeth/Stranded without love/Do I understand your question, man?/Is it hopeless and forlorn?/ 'Come in,' she said, 'I'll give ya shelter from the storm.' --- E&P welcomes letters to the editor: letters@editorandpublisher.com.
Source: Editor & Publisher Online
That wasn't a compliment.
I Write The Songs by Barry Manilow
Since all their stories are made up.
And a best of CD by Milli Vanilli.
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