Back in college, I made the acquaintance of . . . well, several incredible songwriters, each of whom I can gush about, none of whom made it big despite what I consider their more than copious talent. The one brought to my mind now was a personal friend with whom I worked, and his writing struck a chord because he wrote about Asian American issues.
The last I heard, which is actually quite a while ago, he had entered the noble profession of elementary school teaching (I'm not being sarcastic), and has given up music and songwriting altogether, although I'm not sure I believe that 100%. I have a feeling, or I hope, that through the years he has written songs on the sly.
He wrote brilliant lyrics that I analyzed and explicated to the extent that I now wonder whether I scared him, making him question what he was putting out there that he hadn't intended.
He had written a song called "Yellow Yellow Woman" which had gotten some criticism from people who hadn't read the (hilarious and profound) lyrics and were just reacting to the title and the chorus (Someday I'm gonna marry me a yellow, yellow woman and have yellow, yellow babies all with yellow, yellow names), and he was doubting whether it should be included in the collection of songs we were recording.
09 Yellow Yellow Woman (lyrics/music/vocals by k. hung; I'm on all instruments including guitar, bass, drums, cowbell!, roto-toms, and an out of tune Eb on a cello steel drum pan belonging to the Oberlin Can Consortium steel drum band (of which I was a member and was able to record all the percussion in their panyard)).
Someday I'm gonna marry me a yellow, yellow woman
And have yellow, yellow babies all with yellow, yellow names
Someday I'm gonna marry me a yellow, yellow woman
And have yellow, yellow babies and they all will look the same
I wanna find a woman, yea, I need to find a woman
But I gotta find a woman who is my species
So I'm gonna take some action, some affirmative action
'Cause this lovin' that I need ain't equal opporunity
My momma keeps on askin', keeps on askin' askin' askin'
When you gonna settle down with some nice Chinese
She had better be from Taiwan or maybe even Fukian
But if not I'll settle for Korean or a Japanese
So here I am at college, at this equal, equal college
With my equal opportunity life
But I never ever thought that at this equal, equal college
I'd be lookin', lookin', lookin' for a wife
So now I'm roaming through the dining halls, scouting out the mailroom
Trying to find my woman in the library
And I'm looking through the phonebook, flipping, marking with a pencil
Every girl whose last name is Wong, Chen, or Lee
And I go to Asian students meetings, take East Asian Studies classes
Hopin', hopin', hopin', hopin' that I'll find her there
And at the very last all-campus Chinese New Year's celebration
Why the hell do you think that I was everywhere
And then I go to campus parties and I hear that Two Live Crew song "Me So Horny"
Oh, me so horny!
And then I laugh at all the Asian women, all dancing to a song that's making fun of them
But then I think:
That same song's being sung by me!
Well my mom wants to keep her traditions, wants to keep her past
Don't want no oranges when there's lemons growing on the family tree
But it's not like I'm already foreign, I was born in North Dakota
When I try to speak Chinese it all sounds Greek to me
So I'll respect my mom's tradition, her need to keep her past
And if she wants to keep on dreaming, well I guess then that is fine
But I think that I'll respect tradition, all the while I break tradition
I will draw as well as keep the family line
So if someday I marry me a yellow, yellow woman
And have yellow, yellow babies all with yellow, yellow names
It will kinda be ironic, 'cause it will not be intentional
'Cause yellow, yellow women, no, they don't all look the same
Yellow, yellow woman
Yellow, yellow woman
Yellow, yellow babies, yellow yellow names
Yellow, yellow woman
Yellow, yellow woman
Yellow, yellow babies, no they don't all look the same
(Well tell me who's to blame)
I had to argue him into including it because it was brilliant and we would make sure that everyone who received the tape would get a copy of the lyrics. I practically went verse by verse, line by line telling him how his song was friggin' brillig. I can see how that can be disturbing.
The lyrics below,
That previous song was about a Japanese person who immigrated to America in the early 20th century to seek his fortune, only to face racist laws prohibiting him from owning land and then was sent to an internment camp during WWII while his son enlisted in the all Japanese American (and highly decorated) 442nd U.S. army regiment to fight against the Nazis, where he's killed in action. The significance in the title is that he changes his last name from Ohara to O'Hare to sound "more American".
08 The Ballad of Charlie Ohara (lyrics/music/vocals/piano: k. hung; I played guitar and bass; synthesizer by a. hirahara)
I call myself Charlie O'Hare
Though I know that's not the way to pronounce it
'Cause the voices in the postcards and letters
Dating back, back from the time I renounced it
Whisper my name 'cross the sea
Through the barbed wire, the sage brush lashed 'round my memory
For forty odd acres of land
Made a deal, just so the law wouldn't find us
'Cause the laws in this land they assume
When we come, we leave our pride back behind us
So now I answer to this call
Even though I don't look one bit Irish at all
Our first born was named "Isamu"
"Uncle Sam", that was what everyone called him
He grew into a young man so strapling
Turned the head of even some giddy white woman
The day he became twenty-one
I signed him the deed and I looked toward the setting sun
Then the war came and, well, they lost our trust
So they sent us to a place where we choked in our dreams from the dust
Over a question of our loyalty
I said Look at my name, how much more American must I be?
Sam joined the 442nd
'Cause his actions spoke louder than my words did for him
They sent him to fight against the Nazis
Where he died taking the Gothic Line from them
Soon after that, they let some go
And sent 'em down to Chicago
On orders that we stay from our own
But I'm much too old to leave my home
So now I lie in the desert heat
Postcards and letters scattered at my feet
The voices there tell me of my shame
'Cause it's been so long since I've heard my name
My name
Heard my name
The message it came through the wire
"We regret to inform you of the death of Private Samuel O'Hare"
For this song he decided to try to write from a woman's perspective, and he chose the topic of an Asian war bride. I forget if we discussed it, but I think she's supposed to be Korean. That makes the most sense; he didn't want to repeat a Japanese character and I don't think it snows much in Vietnam. Also considering the U.S.'s hasty retreat out of Vietnam.
I do have a recorded version of the song,
On the recording, our guitarist, an Indian American, couldn't figure out a part for the song, so we swapped instruments with me on guitar (his incredibly sweet Stratocaster) and him on bass. I listen to the song now and think of all the things he's doing wrong on the bass, and I'm sure he'd think the same about my guitar playing.
13 Let It Snow (lyrics/music/vocals/piano: k. hung; j. cotelingham: bass; me: guitar)
"Let It Snow"
In the winter's night, by the twilight's last gleaming
When the weatherman says it'll be 20 below
You can hear her voice from the window-ledge singing
"Let it snow, let it snow, please let it snow"
Met him at a dance on the army installation
Where she hung out after work on the assembly row
Above the boiler's din, you can often hear her singing
"Let it snow, let it snow, please let it snow"
So she came over here on the strength of his promise
She had heard it once on Armed Forces Radio
And his voice did sound a little bit like Frank Sinatra's singing
"Let it snow, let it snow, please let it snow"
And after visiting Missouri to meet his parents
They moved on to the base where he was lieutenant
But the blur of America it soon got to her head
So she spent her first days there inside sick in bed
'Cos her English was bad, she spent her days in the apartment
In the evening he'd take her out to see a show
But then he'd come home late for all the work at the office
Piled like snow...
So she would wait for him with his dinner warm and ready
Growing impatient staring out of the window
And all the while the days were growing shorter and shorter
A sign of snow, a sign of snow...
But when the meal was all over and the dishes put away
They discovered that they didn't have much of anything to say
And from her window was all of America she could see
And the gleam in her eye became the glare of the TV
Then late one night around the holiday season
He came back from the bar staggering through the cold
Was so drunk that he slammed the backdoor wide open
And it snowed
He threw her to the floor screaming curses in English
Not once caring if they might be words that she'd know
And the punches came, first a flurry, then a blizzard
And it snowed
And in the midst of it all through the tears through the pain
Remembered hearing once that snow was just frozen rain
And though she knew in two days it would be Christmas Day
She realized that she didn't celebrate anyway
So in the winter's night, by the twilight's last gleaming
When the weatherman says it'll be 20 below
You can hear her voice from the window-ledge singing
"Let it snow, let it snow, please let it snow"
When the weatherman says it'll be 20 below
You can hear her voice from the window-ledge singing
"Let it snow, let it snow, please let it snow"
Met him at a dance on the army installation
Where she hung out after work on the assembly row
Above the boiler's din, you can often hear her singing
"Let it snow, let it snow, please let it snow"
So she came over here on the strength of his promise
She had heard it once on Armed Forces Radio
And his voice did sound a little bit like Frank Sinatra's singing
"Let it snow, let it snow, please let it snow"
And after visiting Missouri to meet his parents
They moved on to the base where he was lieutenant
But the blur of America it soon got to her head
So she spent her first days there inside sick in bed
'Cos her English was bad, she spent her days in the apartment
In the evening he'd take her out to see a show
But then he'd come home late for all the work at the office
Piled like snow...
So she would wait for him with his dinner warm and ready
Growing impatient staring out of the window
And all the while the days were growing shorter and shorter
A sign of snow, a sign of snow...
But when the meal was all over and the dishes put away
They discovered that they didn't have much of anything to say
And from her window was all of America she could see
And the gleam in her eye became the glare of the TV
Then late one night around the holiday season
He came back from the bar staggering through the cold
Was so drunk that he slammed the backdoor wide open
And it snowed
He threw her to the floor screaming curses in English
Not once caring if they might be words that she'd know
And the punches came, first a flurry, then a blizzard
And it snowed
And in the midst of it all through the tears through the pain
Remembered hearing once that snow was just frozen rain
And though she knew in two days it would be Christmas Day
She realized that she didn't celebrate anyway
So in the winter's night, by the twilight's last gleaming
When the weatherman says it'll be 20 below
You can hear her voice from the window-ledge singing
"Let it snow, let it snow, please let it snow"
