Thanksgiving Playlist

Found this on azcentral.com. Only one song really matters:

Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan's 115th Dream
In which the great Bob Dylan sets the scene with "I was riding on the Mayflower when I thought I spied some land." And then, he has to stop and start again because he can't stop giggling. This was 1965. He may have had his reasons. Anyhow, what follows may be one of Dylan's most inspired moments as a lyricist, a hilarious trip down Dylan's stream of consciousness on a whaling ship with Captain Arab (rhymes with Ahab). "I think I'll call it America," Dylan proclaims, with a wheeze, when they stumble across a new continent. Arab wants to buy the place with beads. Instead, they get arrested. Dylan busts out, orders Crepe Suzette, gets taken by a French girl, leaps a hot dog stand, gives up on raising bail and heads back to the ship alone. But as he's setting sail, he sees three more ships heading into shore. "I asked the captain what his name was and how come he didn't drive a truck," Dylan sings. "He said his name was Columbus. I just said, 'Good luck.' " Now that, my friends, is cause for giving thanks.

Pavement, No More Kings
OK, Pavement didn't write this song. The Schoolhouse Rock! guys did. But Pavement made it indie-rock. Written to teach, the lyrics spell out every detail school-kids need to know, a lesson only slightly undermined by the inherent irony of any Stephen Malkmus vocal. "They sailed the sea to find a place to call their own so free. In their little ship, the Mayflower, they hoped to find a better home to be." The weird thing is, it's kind of poignant.

Adam & the Ants, Kings of the Wild Frontier
Adam Ant frequently flirted with Indian imagery, painting his face and chanting the names of a few of his favorite tribes in Human Beings. But this title track to the Ants' amazing U.S. breakthrough is his most outrageous act of cultural imperialism. He actually wants you to believe it when he sings, "I feel beneath the white, there is a red skin suffering from centuries of taming." And you kind of do because the tribal drums are just that good. It's hard to say exactly how that pirate jacket Jimi Hendrix might have worn fits in, but this could be the greatest New Wave single ever.

Brian Wilson, Roll Plymouth Rock
From the recently completed Smile, the fabled "teenage symphony for God" that derailed his career in the '60s, this psychedelic mini-epic finds the once and future Beach Boy throwing his support behind the Indian whose land the White man conquered. "Ribbon of concrete, just see what you've done," Wilson sighs, "to the church of the American Indian."

Neil Young, Pocahontas
Has any White rock and roll icon written more often about the American Indian? In Pocahontas, an understated highlight of Rust Never Sleeps, he sings of paddles cutting the water in a long and hurried flight from the White man. But he really takes the gloves off in the second verse: "They killed us in our tepee and they cut our women down. They might have left some babies cryin' on the ground." As for the title character, she's there as inspiration for a different type of conquest. "I wish I was a trapper. I would give a thousand pelts to sleep with Pocahontas and find out how she felt."

The Cowsills, Indian Lake
The inspiration for The Partridge Family, this group of siblings and their mother had a massive hit in 1967 with The Rain, the Park & Other Things and then again in 1969 with Hair. And sandwiched in between those twin peaks? This bubblegum classic, a back-to-nature invite to Indian Lake, where we're told we can rent a canoe, have a snack and, with any luck, "make" the way the Indians do. Is their mom just not paying attention?

Iron Maiden, Run to the Hills
The White man gets handed his scalp, only this time it's figurative. From the opening line, it's clear where this headbanging metal band's sympathies lie, as Bruce Dickinson sets the scene with a wail of "White man came across the sea. He brought us pain and misery. He killed our tribes, he killed our creed. He took our game for his own need." And don't worry. He gets to the raping of women, enslaving of children and other atrocities later. An even heavier metal song in a similar vein is Indians by Anthrax ("Cry for the Indians, die for the Indians").

The Raiders, Indian Reservation
In their '60s prime, the Raiders dressed as soldiers from the Revolutionary War, the implication being that they were defending our shores against invading British rockers. So it's kind of funny that they'd score their biggest U.S. hit with a chart-topping anthem that honors the pride of the Cherokee people as their lifestyle is corrupted by the White man. As Mark Lindsay sings, "They took away our native tongue and taught their English to our young. And all the beads we made by hand are nowadays made in Japan." But Lindsay signs off on a note of cautious optimism: "Maybe someday when they learn, Cherokee Nation will return."

Cher, Half Breed
There's an awesome video of this on YouTube that starts with a totem pole engulfed by flames as tribal drums pound in the distance. Cut to Cher in an Indian headdress surrounded by flames: "My father married a pure Cherokee. My mother's people were ashamed of me." It's not until the chorus kicks in that the camera pulls back to reveal that Cher - because there is a God who knows how much I like this kind of crap - is on a horse. And then, the camera pulls back further and we see the totem pole. What might get lost in all that spectacle is just how earnest Half Breed was beneath the camp, with Cher as the victim of racist attacks from both sides of the family tree.

Hank Williams, Kaw-Liga
OK, this one starts with tribal drumming too, but it's no Adam & the Ants (or Cher). The king of country music tells the lonesome tale of a cigar-store Indian who falls in love "with an Indian maid over in the antique store." The things is, he just stands there, never says a word - because his heart is "made of knotty pine."

John Vanderslice, Plymouth Rock
A haunting ballad from one of America's more compelling indie balladeers, it finds the singer on his first raid, "made up like a Shawnee brave." He takes a bullet in the neck, though, from a White man's gun, ironically, and as he lies there bleeding out, he sighs, "I lost the reason. I lost the reason. I lost the reason I'm here." Recorded in the wake of 9/11, it's a corollary, naturally, for more current affairs. But either way, it's a beautiful song.

Buffalo Springfield, Broken Arrow
A wistful Neil Young folk-pop epic, Broken Arrow finds a younger Young ask "Did you see them in the river? They were there to wave to you. Could you tell that the empty-quivered, brown-skinned Indian on the banks that were crowded and narrow held a broken arrow?" It's a powerful image, whatever it means. And the music is gorgeous, one of Young's most timeless melodies delivered with real feeling.

I'd have included "White Man" by Queen