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South of the Border
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El Salvador, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Bolivia... the door-gunner in a provided 'U.S. surplus' Huey sprays the village below with machine-gun fire, as the residents are punished for siding with the rebels, or... in the wrong place at the wrong time.
melodic lyrical political emphatic high energy protest opinion
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Progressive rock with heart, political, message, strong lyrics, good melodic singing, sometimes complex... always multi-layered/sometimes light-sometimes thick.
Michael Bix (and studio/stage bandmates) constructs songs around lyrics, beat and drone... bottom line - "where are the Emperor's clothes?" even when the emperor is Bix himself. No wierd scams, just solid songs about people using or used by power in strange and often unaccountable ways... unless there's a witness writing it down, and it's not altogether unaccountable anymore.
Song Info
Genre
Rock • Progressive Rock
Charts
Peak #369
Peak in subgenre #44
Author
Michael Bix
Rights
Michael Billingsley
Uploaded
April 14, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.5 MB • 128 kbps • 2:32
Story behind the song
Awkwesasne Notes, 1987 carried several stories on Guatemalan Mayan villages slaughtered indescriminately by government troops using helicopters armed with rocket launchers, basically shooting anything on the ground that moved... mother, dog or child.
Lyrics
A distant sound floats down, to those beneath the trees. Time to bring this rebel village to its knees. Chopping rhythm growing louder in the air, rockets flying in from everywhere... we sure can give these creeps a scare, from our Huey helicopter. Gunship pauses briefly in the smoking clouds Turning swiftly, seeking movement in the crowds Bullets knock them screaming, off their feet (folks in that hut there, are in for quite a treat) Pilot thinks this all is pretty neat Good ol' Huey helicopter. Can't see the gunner's eyes behind reflecting glasses Sighting in on women, running through tall grasses Squeeze the trigger, watch them tracers fly Serves them RIGHT, sneaking down there on the sly We'll sing a rock song for them, as they die beneath our Huey helicopter. As we disappear behind the shadowed hills No one stays behind to count the kills Blackened bodies lie half-hidden in the field We're the VICTOR, hail the power that we wield Another rebel village made to yield to our Huey helicopter Good ol' Huey helicopter Huey helicopter... "...las lágrimas amordazan al viento, y no se oye otra cosa que el llanto." includes fragments from Federico Garcia Lorca's "Romance de la Guardia Civil Espa–ol" and "Casida del Llanto" as read by Maria Blakely - original transcriptionist of Lorca's handwritten manuscripts for his New York publisher
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