We Built This City
(Songwriters: Dennis Lambert / Peter F. Wolf / Martin George Page / Bernard J.p. Taupin; performed by Starship)
We built this city
We built this city on rock and roll
Built this city
We built this city on rock and roll
Say you don't know me or recognize my face
Say you don't care who goes to that kind of place
Knee deep in the hoopla, sinking in your fight
Too many runaways eating up the night
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember?
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Someone's always playing corporation games
Who cares, they're always changing corporation names
We just want to dance here, someone stole the stage
They call us irresponsible, write us off the page
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember?
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
It's just another Sunday in a tired old street
Police have got the choke hold, oh, then we just lost the beat
Who counts the money underneath the bar?
Who rides the wrecking ball into our guitars?
Don't tell us you need us 'cause we're the ship of fools
Looking for America, coming through your schools
Don't you remember? (Remember)
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember?
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built, we built this city, yeah (Built this city)
We built, we built this city
We built, we built this city yeah (Built this city)
We built, we built this city
We built, we built this city yeah (Built this city)
We built, we built this city (Built this city)
I need to start by saying that I was in high school when this song came out and I never liked it (and when I later learned that Starship was the eventual bastard child of the Jefferson Airplane that once gave us the sublime White Rabbit, I was beyond understanding). But the reason for this song will eventually be made clear.
As I keep writing, my brother Ken has terminal cancer, and as one of the reasons I left my job last year was to be available for him in any way he might need my support, when Ken told me he wanted to take a trip to Newfoundland (the only Canadian province he had yet to visit) and that I was welcome to join him, I told him I'd go with him. His goals were to 1) Get "screeched in", 2) Visit Cape Spear, Signal Hill, Dildo, and The Rooms museum, and 3) Go Whale Watching. And we did them all (to varying degrees of success).
We flew out on a morning flght, and as we arrived in St. John's a couple hours before our Vrbo was available for check in, I suggested we take the turn out to Cape Spear (the most easterly point in North America) to waste some time. When we got to the parking lot, there was a path that split in two directions: right up to the lighthouse, and left to who knows where. Ken picked the lighthouse path, and it was a strenuous climb for him, with a couple of stops, and as it was quite foggy, the view didn't have much of a payoff.
Ken was so worn out by this point that when we saw another path heading down into the fog, he said he'd wait for me to go down and check it out. I jogged down the stony path and arrived at a battery (long cannons set up defensively for WWI and then a garrison used during WWII) and found myself at a marker for the most easterly point (where a woman offered to take my picture because she not-so-secretly wanted me to take her photo for her, lol.).
Leaving that marker, I nearly immediately found myself back at the parking lot, jogged back up to where Ken was still waiting, and explained to him that it would be all downhill (and then a gentle rise back to the parking lot) if he wanted to come see that marker stone. At first he said no (and I still have no idea how much energy he actually has; no clue whether to push him), but then he agreed to come check out what I saw (and I'm sure he's glad he did; this was on his wishlist, even if it was fogged in.)
We got a few groceries and then it was time to get into the Vrbo: a quirky little place just a couple blocks uphill from the bars and pubs of George Street. We eventually made our way down there and went into Christian's Pub (where Ken's research had told him would be the best place to be screeched in) and asked about the ceremony: they put us on the list and told us to be back within an hour because they lock the doors at 7, and we still hadn't eaten any supper. Got fish and chips next door and made it back in time; a table with a lone man and woman invited us to join them and we learned that they were in from Cape Breton, in town for for the East Coast Music Awards, and that she (another Krista) considers herself a guerilla artist because she carries a craft kit of googly eyes on her at all times, looking for posters and statues to deface enhance, and that at this year's awards, there were even posters around featuring her previous work. (Honestly: amazingly friendly and engaging couple who set the tone for an amazing evening.) The ceremony lasts a couple of hours, and we drank the screech (which for some reason I always though was a moonshine, but it's a lovely, warming spiced rum), and we kissed the cod (frozen in this case, but still a little nasty to put your mouth on after others have.)
(That is the other Krista smiling and taking a picture of me, and in the picture I led with up top, that's our host "Aunt Luce"; bizarrely, yet another Krista.) The next day we drove up to Dildo: Ken wanted a picture with their (apparently) famous city sign, but it has recently been changed out for something wordy (and less tempting to steal, apparently.) We were not disappointed, however, to discover the Nan and Pop Dildo Souvenir Shop ("Something for Everyone!")
Or to realise, after taking a few pictures down by the wharf, that there's a Hollywood-type Dildo sign up on the hillside (and when we later had lunch at the Dildo Brewing Co, which has a Jimmy Kimmel for Mayor of Dildo sign on the wall, I had to ask Ken if he thought Kimmel installed that sign.)
The next day we went to Signal Hill and attempted to get a picture beside the Cabot Tower (erected in 1898 - already old in terms of Canadian sites - to commemorate the 400th anniversary of John Cabot's landing in Newfoundland}, and it was so incredibly windy that Ken was honestly afraid that he'd be knocked down:
And even I had to fight my way, stumbling, across the clifftop to take this picture of St John's harbour:
We headed back into the city and went to The Rooms (part museum, part art gallery; totally worth seeing as an insight into Newfoundland history and culture), and after a brief break (it is the hockey playoffs!), we went back to Signal Hill (because the wind had died down and it was safe for both me and Ken to walk around the clifftop):
And because Ken said that he wanted to eat moose while he was in Newfoundland (which he later said was just a joke), I suggested we go to the only place I could find online that was serving it, The Guv'nor Inn and Pub. And, like everywhere else (even the hotdog cart outside of Christian's), they informed us that moose was out of stock at the moment (which Ken didn't seem to mind), but I was able to order a mess of cod tongues (like my Mum made when we were growing up; Ken said the fish and chips he ordered was probably the best he ever had).
Because we were at the most easterly point in North America, I decided to leave the next morning before 5 am for a panoramic sunrise photo (Ken was not interested in joining me, and you need to respect the needs of someone whose sleep schedule is hijacked by cancer):
We went "whale watching" in Bay Bulls later that day (it's not quite the season for whales yet, and while they do guarantee puffin sightings, the puffins aren't nesting yet, so you can only see them at a distance flying away from the approaching boat across the water; which, while interesting to the eye, was not photographable with my phone), but a boat ride in this rugged landscape is a lovely experience no matter what you're looking at (and Obrien's Boat Tours - with folk singers and screeching in - puts on an entertaining show).
In the end, we did everything on Ken's list, and as for this song choice: Signal Hill is the site from which Marconi played his mamba across the waves to Ireland in the world's first Trans-Atlantic radio broadcast (or, er, received a banal radio transmission), and as Newfoundland is known colloquially as "The Rock", something about "we built this city on rock and roll" just seemed to fit the vibe of St. John's. Overall: The people were amazingly friendly (a talkative and colourful stranger on the street offered to pray for Ken once informed of why his voice is so husky) and the landscape is as beautiful and rugged as promised. I believe Ken got out of this trip what he wanted, and I was happy to go with him. Here's hoping he's up for the Mediterranean cruise in September we're all going on together!
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember?
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
