Good Song: Come Join The Murder

I had never heard of this alt hymn, or the artists who built it, or even the television series that launched it, before I first heard it on Celtic Music Radio some weeks ago. (Or maybe The Whip, or Folk Alley? Apologies to the unknown programme director with the sound judgement to add this track to the rotation.)

Which is probably for the best, as I understand the climactic scene behind which these poignant verses run would have superseded any connexions my own mind might have made.

And the work is deeply moving on its own.

In the meantime I've listened to it over and over again – I'm listening to it now – and suggest you do as well.

Listen without the lyrics. Let the chant flow through your skull. If the current moves you, listen a few times more before you engage your binary drive.

Just savour the oracular growl of Jake Smith (aka The White Buffalo), voicing the literary dexterity of lyricist Kurt Sutter. (While we're up, let's also note that the titular "murder" refers to a posse of corvids, not a capital crime.)

Those birds – crows, jays; ravens above all – were sangha during my forest ango; omnipresent, providing a guidance hard to quantify in the Red Dust World.

But you can take my word for it. These words–

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We'll give you freedom
From the human trap

–arrested me.

Never mind that the story puts a darker spin on it; for me this quatrain encapsulates my experience on the mountain, taking me back to that time and place.

More sit than song.

And as Marshall McLuhan didn't quite say:

"The meditation is the message."

Therefore, for the good of The Order, I say in brotherly communion:

Let us clear our minds of discrimination, and contemplate this wisdom.


Wu Ya's commentary:

"Look, it's just a song."

–烏鴉


Come Join The Murder

by The White Buffalo and The Forest Rangers
words and music by Kurt Sutter

There's a blackbird perched outside my window
I hear him calling
I hear him sing
He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers
He sees all my sins
He reads my soul

One day that bird, he spoke to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We'll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You'll touch the hand of God
And he'll make you king
And he'll make you king

On a blanket made of woven shadows
Flew up to heaven
On a raven's glide
These angels have turned my wings to wax now
I fell like Judas
Grace denied

And on that day he lied to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We'll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You'll touch the hand of God
And he'll make you king
And he'll make you king

I walk among the children of my fathers
The broken wings, betrayal's cost
They call to me but never touch my heart now
I am too far
I'm too lost

All I can hear is what he spoke to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We'll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You'll touch the hand of God
And he'll make you king
And he'll make you king

So now I curse that raven's fire
You made me hate, you made me burn
He laughed aloud as he flew from Eden
You always knew
You never learn

The crow no longer sings to me
Like Martin Luther
Or Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We'll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You'll touch the hand of God
And he'll make you king

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We'll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You'll touch the hand of God
And he'll make you king
And he'll make you king

Reclaiming Jimmy

As the world swings into Christmas, I believe justice demands I use this forum to correct a historical inequity that's been allowed too long to stand.

I'm speaking, of course, of the studious ignoring of the important œuvre of Jimmy. (Also known, in possible reflection of his troubled youth, by the nom de street "Jimmy the Crow". This in spite of the fact that he was actually a raven, but that's The Man for you.)

Obscurity notwithstanding, this gifted thespian appeared in perhaps a thousand features spanning Hollywood's Golden Age, including several enduring classics.

Yet, due possibly to deliberate suppression by corporate media, few today have ever heard of him.

Abducted from his parents in 1934, Jimmy was schooled Artful Dodger-style in a variety of nefarious skills, including typing, opening mail, and driving a motorcycle. He also learned to recognise "several hundred" English words, generally acquiring new ones, according to his handler, at the rate of just a week per syllable.

In short order, Jimmy was estimated to function at the level of the average 8-year-old, an accomplishment that, along with his verbal intelligence, would qualify him for voter registration in most nations today.

So why is December the best month to correct the likely speciesist repression of Jimmy's contributions to Western culture? Because at this time of year, arguably his best-known performance plays on television in heavy rotation. I'm speaking of course of It's A Wonderful Life, which production profits significantly from his involvement.

Said leading man Jimmy Stewart, speaking on-set, "When they call 'Jimmy!', we both answer." He also judged Jimmy the Crow "the smartest actor on the set," and added that the consummate avian artist nailed his scenes in fewer takes than mammalian castmates.

So this holiday season, when curmudgeonly older relatives gripe that cinema today is "for the birds", remind them in Jimmy's name that we should be so lucky.


(Photo of Jimmy on the set of It's A Wonderful Life courtesy of National Telefilm Associates and Wikimedia Commons.)

Advaya Kyôsaku

"You’re just another version of me. That’s why I can’t take you that seriously."

Brad Warner


(Bairei Kōno's take on 鴉烏 courtesy of Rawpixel.com.)

WW: Crows on a wire

Birds Know It

Karma is only a bitch if you are.

WW: Crow in the jungle