Skip to content

The Stories of Scott D. Southard

  • In Jerry’s Corner
  • A Jane Austen Daydream
  • Permanent Spring Showers
  • Megan
  • Maximilian Standforth and the Case of the Dangerous Dare
  • The Dante 3
  • Me Stuff
  • Man Behind the Curtain
  • July 30, 2018

    A Rant Against Harry Chapin‘s “Cat’s in the Cradle”

    I am always haunted by three songs. They are my personal ghosts. They are with me wherever I go, just ready to jump back in front of me with a scream of “Boo! Got ya! Now sing along!” And I have no choice. I sing every damn time.

    The first is “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” by Deep Blue Something. Let’s get this out of the way first, Breakfast at Tiffany’s is an awful movie. It’s not just an awful movie, it’s also a racist film. There is no good reason for the lyricist and the soon-to-be ex-girlfriend to have fond memories of that film. I would even argue that an enjoyment or love of the film a good ground for dumping… on both sides.

    But gosh darn it, that chorus in the song is so catchy!

    I hope wherever the lead singer of Deep Blue Something is, he is also singing that song every day… seems only fair for what he has put me through since its release.

    The second song is “Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia)” by Us3. This song from the ’90s was created out of an attempt to combine Blue Note jazz records with rap. For some strange reason, this is the only rap song I can rap along with all the way through. Which means at some point during my day you might hear me quietly bragging about my basketball skills and my ability to rap. (Both things that aren’t true.)

    The third song though hits me more psychologically. It cuts me to my core, leaving me feeling guilty about the smallest things, because…

    I will not ever, ever, EVER be like the dad in Harry Chapin‘s “Cat’s in the Cradle.”

    –

    For those lucky enough not to know this folk pop number, it is a cautionary tale about parenting and the lessons we teach our kids without meaning to. The narrator is a father who never seems to have time for his son. He wasn’t there when his son learned to walk or speak. He even casually dismisses his son’s birth, saying that he was merely born “in the usual way.” I’m sure his wife when she was screaming in the hospital didn’t think it was “usual.”  (more…)

    Share this:

    • Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    • Print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    Like Loading…

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
 

Loading Comments...
 

    • Subscribe Subscribed
      • The Stories of Scott D. Southard
      • Join 1,946 other subscribers
      • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
      • The Stories of Scott D. Southard
      • Subscribe Subscribed
      • Sign up
      • Log in
      • Report this content
      • View site in Reader
      • Manage subscriptions
      • Collapse this bar
    %d