This post is about a piece of music that swam through my soul this morning and has yet to emerge for air. I’ve played Bill Withers’ masterpiece, “I Can’t Write Left-Handed” hundreds of times, but this is the first time I’ve discussed it publicly.
Over the course of the last eight months, y’all have become like family to me. As such, when I’m annoyed about something like apple stickers or smoke detectors (standby for that post), I feel like I can come vent to you. On that note (see what I did there?), I know I can also gush randomly in your direction. Because music is as much of a part of my lifestyle as weightlifting or nutrition, I’ll occasionally bring it to our (my and your) dinner table.
Allow me to lay down the linens and fine china.
This is the version of the track that we’ll be discussing. It’s from a live performance at Carnegie Hall in 1973. Of course it is.
If you’re unfamiliar with this song, it’s about a man shot in the shoulder while at war and how his life subsequently changes forever. The man is rendered unable to write down his thoughts and begs for help.
When the haunting piano arrives, I can feel it on my skin. Withers begin to muse about the Vietnam War and the men and women who fought against their will, and I see my pacifist parents in my mind’s eye.
Let me be clear, I fall somewhere on the spectrum between Gandhi and Malcolm X. There is a breaking point for all when it comes to political beliefs and fighting oppression.
Bill Withers’ stance, however, was articulated in a way only an artist can express. He used this track to move us. I’m still in motion.
The hymn of the background singers is soul scraping. How could the mood of the music vibrate with the energy of torn flesh and a sunny warm Saturday morning simultaneously?
This is but one reason why music is so powerful. The lyrics can rip your guts out, and the voices and instruments can be so angelic, so celestial, that we feel two opposite emotions at once.
My pianist (remember the first few notes of the track?) father proudly displayed a “War is not the Answer” bumper sticker on his Japanese beater when I was a boy. Withers’ lyrics represent dad’s moral positioning on the topic.
I can’t write left handed. Would you please write a letter, write a letter to my mother?
I’ll remind you that this isn’t a lyrical breakdown. It’s about a moment today, during my drive to the studio, where I was hit with wave of “wow”. All of us experience these periods from time to time. If we are with a loved one, we grab that person’s hand (or at the very least their ear), and we share our moment with them. We tell them what the moment makes us fantasize about and where we are transported. We begin philosophical discussions. “What does Bill mean by that? What would you do if your son or your daughter was drafted and had to get on an airplane to head to Southeast Asia next week?”
When we are alone and touched, we find a more theoretical ear. You are my outlet today. Bill Withers struck a powerful chord, and I was compelled to ooze about it. Thank you.
Kap
Mike says
…well done Kap. Peace.
Gabe Kapler says
Thanks, Mike.
Duane says
That brought back some serious memories. We’re always here for you Kap. I wish you an outstanding Sunday my brotha. Peace.
Gabe Kapler says
My man.
Kelebek says
I love this song but I have a hard time listening to it because it reminds me of my father who served (he passed in 2002). I usually end up tearing and being moved so much that I have to turn it off. My mother said he changed for a few years after he came home and closed out the world because of his experiences. He would never talked about his time with her.
Then in 1989, he had a stroke that left his right side paralyzed. He couldn’t speak at all, walk, and he literally had to learn to write left handed (originally right handed). Years of physical therapy and struggles followed but my father pushed on. You could see the frustration in his eyes but he couldn’t verbalized any of it. If you asked if he needed help he shook his head no-always.
But he did ask for help one day-he hit a breaking point and couldn’t do one thing that we all take for granted: he wanted to write a check. With tears in his eyes, he grabbed my hand with his shaky left and got out a garbled ‘help’ we held the pen together. Years later he told me “That’s twice now, I cheated death. Since I don’t believe in luck, I guess God isn’t ready for me for to return home yet.”
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the song and I apologize for the long comment but this is how I was moved by the song and I thought you should know that.
-Kelebek
Gabe Kapler says
Thank you. Appreciate the thoughts.
Michelle says
Love it
Gabe Kapler says
You’re becoming bankable.
Griff says
Mr. Wither’s also sang my fathers favorite song, “Lean on me”. I just went to iTunes and downloaded a few more of his songs.
Gabe Kapler says
“Grandma’s Hands” live.
Epic.
Tony Recupero says
Kap, i’m new to your blog and appreciate the inspiration you provide on so many different levels. Nice work brother!
billstraehl says
Puts things in a whole different perspective…on many levels. Thanks for sharing.
Phred says
What is the tune that is hauntingly being hummed in the background? So gripping..