*Junk*, by Sir Paul McCartney.





How to describe a world where value is created by us, not lying in the world itself, is daunting. As Santayana said, “We live tragically in a world which is not tragic.” No Bob Dylan song has the combination of poetry with thought as powerful as this one, the tragedy of time passing while our memory can retrace the history of our junk, the happiness of camping, going for a ride with a bicycle. It is a simple song with a simple melody, but the result is poetic and philosophical. We hear many times that Paul McCartney is not a songwriter, “only” a musician. I beg to differ. You do not need 11 minutes to say something important; indeed, the fact that you can say something important in 1 minute (and fifty four seconds) makes it more impressive. As Baltasar Gracián says on wit: A good thing, if brief, is twice good.


Motorcars, handle bars,
Bicycles for two,
Broken hearted jubilee.

Parachutes, army boots,
Sleeping bags for two,
Sentimental jamboree.


“Buy, buy,” says the sign in the shop window.

“Why, why,” says the junk in the yard.

Candlesticks, building bricks,
Something old and new,
Memories for you and me.


“Buy, buy,” says the sign in the shop window.

“Why, why,” says the junk in the yard.






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  1. I sang it as I read it. Succinct and artful, indeed.

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    1. Melody is the salt of music. McCartney never renounces it, even though it is most erudite to write music without it and lots of changing chords and rhythms. McCartney, like Mozart, know the power of music is in communication, not expression, howsoever great it is. Postmodernism is based on expression, convoluted and highly complex, while ignoring the simple function of grammar: to communicate ideas and feelings. The tragedy of learning too much without wisdom: that you take the medium for the message. Thank You for leaving your note.

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