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Fear At The Fringes (I Am Afraid)
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A look at the poisonous and irrational political climate in the USA in 2010 that seems even more pertinent in the early weeks of 2011. Slow, guitar-driven rock.
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George Potor and Joe DeCristopher both were raised in New Jersey in the 1950's and 60's, and schooled and settled in Pennsylvania, but they didn't meet until late 1979. Though they played occasionally as a duo, their first excursion as a band was with the ppits, a motley crew of seven (and sometimes more), full of political irreverence and fun. The ppits morphed into a quintet, Veto and the Hitmen, which like the ppits, performed twice on WVIA's Homegrown Music with a bundle of original tunes, mostly by George, by George. Over the last few years, George and Joe, with Rick Totten, formed Good Without One, the drummerless rock trio fueled by the retrograde administration of Cheney and W, spawning such gems as "Less Scratch, More Itch", "The Ballad of W, M.D. (Ducking Like a Quack)", "Above the Law", "Things Could Get Worse", and "The Gitmo Swing." The winds of change continue to blow, and George and Joe continue to collaborate, sometimes as a duo, sometimes with the help of others. Happily, Fred Strickland has come onboard with his 5-string bass, vocals & songwriting. They look forward to introducing new tunes, some political (George's "Low Infaux Voter", Joe's "Subprime Blues" and Fred's "Fox U"), some not, like the rocking "Inis Mor", named for the island off the coast of Ireland that George visited in the summer of 2008.
Song Info
Charts
Peak #94
Peak in subgenre #11
Author
George Potor
Rights
2010
Uploaded
January 13, 2011
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.2 MB 128 kbps 4:35
Story behind the song
George wrote this song in response to the alarming tensions surrounding the American elections of 2010. He plays electric guitar and sings the lead vocal. Fred Strickland plays electric 5-string bass and sings backup vocal. Joe DeCristopher plays scorching lead guitar and percussion. He also sings backup vocal.
Lyrics
Small words, big sound, High stakes, low ground, Short take, long nose, Old shoe, new clothes. Screamin’ bloody murder in the middle of the day; Tearin’ off the roof ‘cause a teacher is gay. Whenever somethin’ scares ‘em, wanna lock it in a cage. Angry at the Government, fillin’ up with rage. CHORUS: I am afraid of the fear at the fringes, I am afraid of a race to the Center, I am afraid Red face, blue hand, Real hair, fake tan, Silk tie, cheap suit, Felt hat, jack boot. The overwhelming ignorance, impossible to miss, A carnival of shame, you can hear the cobra hiss. Cryin’ an’ wailin’ helps electrify the air; It’s all about the spectacle caught up in glare. CHORUS Sore throat, clear eye, Mad moon, sad sky, Sharp wit, dull blade, Sun rise, night raid. Falling down the steps, run against the wind, Spittin’ in the fountain where the hippies used to swim. Think they won’t like it, quick to shut it down; Won’t hear nuthin’ but the shoutin’ in this town. CHORUS
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