“Suffering Juicebox,”
by Gate Pratt
Scooters on the downtown playground is a sight to see for
some
It ought to make a few reputations in the cult of number one
While these seconds turn these minutes into hours of the day
All these tantrums drive the good times and the happiness
away
Suffering juicebox such a sad delight
Your filled up with what other children like
And they never seem to sip you quite that hard
There are a lot of babies in this yard
Suffering juicebox in a happy class
You’re over in the corner in the trash
They never seem to sip you way down low
The babies in this school don’t want to know
-----
Well I guess all that sad pleading must make it seem true to
you
But snacktime lights your world up, your trapped what can
you do?
You got Monsanto tendencies and chemical dependencies
You make the same old slurps and sloppy burps on cue
Suffering juicebox such a sad delight
Your filled up with what other children like
sugar, tooth decay, and bad stuff
Make you wonder why they every filled you up
Suffering juicebox in a happy class
You’re over in the corner in the trash
They never seem to sip you way down low
The babies in this school don’t want to know
(adapted from “Suffering Jukebox,” by David Berman)
Pratt tells me “Suffering Juicebox” may yet change; but this
adaptation is a “work in progress” in more sense than one. Pratt’s adaptation
of “Suffering Jukebox” reminds me of Dr. Seuss at his most political, and the
way Peter Gabriel’s “Games Without Frontiers” set war and “diplomacy” as a
childhood game. You might say it “reduces” the scope of Berman’s original, but
in a way that makes it clearer. Both the jukebox and the juicebox are
personified in these songs, but Pratt’s adaptation changes more than the scope.
The juicebox is only partially analogous to Berman’s jukebox.
In the original song, the “cult of number one” becomes a
characterization of contemporary 21st Century America. I picture
construction sites for new gentrified apartment and office buildings that can
be really great for “a few” or for “some.” But for many and most, these
construction sites are primarily destruction sites. What is being destroyed?
Just things like an affordable middle-class life, neighborhoods, etc.
In Pratt’s version, the cult of the number one is
maintained, but the whole situation is infantilized. The skyline becomes a
playground, and the cranes or planes and predator drones become “scooters.” Why
scooters? I believe it’s because 1) they cost more money and have become a
childhood ‘status symbol’ but also 2) because they suggest a more sedentary
lifestyle. You don’t have to run or ride a bike, or exert yourself, if you got
a Segway or a motorized scooter! This may be a sight to see for some, but it also has
proven to be one of the root causes of the obesity epidemic. It’s more removed
from the natural, healthy, and even fun, strivings of being a kid.
In Berman’s song, the personified “jukebox” is presented so sympathetically that many fans have wondered if the song is also a self-characterization, about his life as a musician (Its title, after all, does have the initials SJ). In an interview, Berman said that if it's about a person, it's really more about buskers, street-musicians or cover bands. He's sympathetic to, but doesn't really identify with, this jukebox. Yet the song could still be about an actual jukebox.
The jukebox is a representative of an
old mode of cultural production that has mostly been replaced by the "cult of number
one" and its march toward new gadgets of technological “progress” (which is
really designed to make the rich richer). The song seems sad to see this
“jukebox” go away. Sure, when the jukebox was first introduced in the 1940s, it
was also a form of technological progress that put many big bands and piano
players out of work, but compared to the continued march of progress, this 20th
century mode seems quaint and sympathetic and even human (and, yes, somewhat democratic)
by comparison.
There are some historical analogies between the juice-box
and the jukebox. It’s true that processed juice began to be pushed on a
mass-culture level on the American consumer (and producer) around the same time
the jukebox was introduced after World War II—but while the jukebox is largely
phased out today, the kind of juicebox that Pratt is talking about is still,
like the TV, very popular—but Pratt is up to something else here.
In Pratt’s version, the “juicebox” becomes analogous to the
“scooters.” Both are representatives of the cult of number one. Thus, Pratt’s
version is less sympathetic to this juicebox than Berman’s is to the jukebox.
The juice-box would be more sympathetic (and even analogous to Berman’s
version) were it, say, the mother’s milk of human kindness, or a Public Water
Fountain, or at least freshly-squeezed 100% “all natural” juice, with no
processed corn syrup and other toxic ingredients added. Pratt’s juicebox might
as well be a can of Pepsi.
But why would the cult of the number one benefit from the
creation of this juice-box? Because these toxic ingredients allow them to
maximize profits, for instance; beyond this, since it causes “tooth decay”
among other “bad stuff” that Pratt implies (the aforementioned obesity crisis,
etc), it can help make others really unhealthy. And if more kids are unhealthy,
then the “happy class” of these kids that know better than to drink the crap
they make money pushing on other people, will be able to continue to grow and
assert their dominance, thanks to their propaganda machine known as
advertising.
It also reminds me of a Louis C.K. “stand-up bit,” about
mothers force-feeding French fries and soda at McDonald’s to their kids. The
kids are pleading for water; their taste-buds, even are burning, but little do
their parents know it, but they are indoctrinating them into the cult of number
one---at their own expense. The juicebox is in the trash, but many kids will
not be able to avoid the next one, as they wear their iPods and ride their
scooters where once upon a time they would have danced to the jukebox or even
boom-box. Suffering, indeed; suffering like succotash.
Songwriter David Berman likes this irreverential adaptation
of his song by his erstwhile collaborator (Pratt wrote most of the lyrics to
“Honk If You’re Lonely Tonight,” for instance). It may be a modest gesture, in
the realm of the classic Sing Along With
Mad paperback (which no doubt was a huge influence on more recent folk
musicians like “Weird” Al Yankovich), but “Suffering Juicebox” can be enlisted
in the heroic struggles against the Corporate lobbyists and PR Firm (like the
Center For Consumer Freedom) who call most of the shots on profound issues like
public health in this country. If Obamacare is a Band-aid, the juicebox is one
of the main causes of the wound.
Suffering Jukebox (Silver Jews)
Cranes on the downtown skyline is a sight to see for some
it ought to make a few reputations in the cult of number one
while these seconds turn these minutes into hours of the day
all these doubles drive the dollars and the light of day
away
suffering jukebox such a sad machine
your filled up with what other people need
and they never seem to turn you up loud
there are a lot of chatterboxes in this crowd
suffering jukebox in a happy town
you're over in the corner breaking down
they always seem to keep you way down low
the people in this town don't want to know
well I guess all that mad misery must make it seem to true
to you
but money lights your world up, you're trapped what can you
do?
you got Tennessee tendencies and chemical dependencies
you make the same old jokes and malaprops on cue
suffering jukebox such a sad machine
your filled up with what other people need
hardship, damnation and guilt
make you wonder why you were even built
suffering jukebox in a happy town
you're over in the corner breaking down
they always seem to keep you way down low
the people in this town don't want to know
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