Birdhouse in Your Soul: Issa's Sunday Service, #31

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Not to put too fine a point on it, but They Might Be Giants are one of the best known, under appreciated bands of the last 20 some years. Well known, but under appreciated? Eh?

Well, their song, "Boss of Me," was sung by the millions each week who tuned into the live-action, Simpsons-like sit-com "Malcolm in the Middle." And for those of you who had already thrown their squawk box out of the 3rd floor window really you know how much you haven't missed.

They Might Be Giants redefined quirky just when music culture was desperately mundane, particularly hip alternative music culture. Their very name alludes to a movie (based on a play, the title of which further alludes to a quote from Don Quixote about how windmills "might be giants") about a mentally ill man who believes he is Sherlock Holmes and is being treated by a Dr. Watson, Dr. Jane Watson. It is one of my favorites of all time.

To call it unlikely that They Might Be Giants (the band) became known outside the NYC tri-state area is a bit overstated; their lyric and music abilities are just too good not to have broken through somewhere. Besides, they are the authors of one of the best, heartbreakingly funny break up songs ever: "They'll Need a Crane (just hit the play all button for a real treat)."

Which brings us to today's "Issa's Sunday Service" selection: "Birdhouse in Your Soul." Reaching back to classic Greek literature for the literary allusion, with a subliminal nod to Ray Harryhausen, this tune threatens the veracity of the definition of quirky: Mr. Webster, redefine now, please.

Birdhouse in Your Soul

I'm your only friend
I'm not your only friend
But I'm a little glowing friend
But really I'm not actually your friend
But I am

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

I have a secret to tell
From my electrical well
It's a simple message and I'm leaving out the whistles and bells
So the room must listen to me
Filibuster vigilantly
My name is blue canary one note* spelled l-i-t-e
My story's infinite
Like the Longines Symphonette it doesn't rest

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

I'm your only friend
I'm not your only friend
But I'm a little glowing friend
But really I'm not actually your friend
But I am

There's a picture opposite me
Of my primitive ancestry
Which stood on rocky shores and kept the beaches shipwreck free
Though I respect that a lot
I'd be fired if that were my job
After killing Jason off and countless screaming Argonauts
Bluebird of friendliness
Like guardian angels it's always near

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

(and while you're at it
Keep the nightlight on inside the
Birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch (and while you're at it)
Who watches over you (keep the nightlight on inside the)
Make a little birdhouse in your soul (birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch (and while you're at it)
Who watches over you (keep the nightlight on inside the)
Make a little birdhouse in your soul (birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

*************************************

This week's featured poem comes from Lilliput Review #47, from August 1993. Enjoy.

We look to the bottom
of the pond where dreamy plants
reach
the forest. Here we can understand
the flourish of day lilies
on the banks--and the intense stillness
of a hummingbird. The lure is complete.

Mark Schimmoeller

lilies blooming
without supervision...
evening

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

PS Did somebody say Longines Symphonette?