Trouble In a Minnesota Town (Neal Bowers)
meduim high voice (tenor or baritone), piano
SEA-047-00 - $6.00/copy6 minutes
Habanera, tango and operatic melodrama meet in this dramatic (and funny) song, in which a community's decent into madness involves public demonstrations, Latin dance, and fruit.
Vocal range: d-f'
To hear a recorded excerpt, click here
(MP3, 2.5 MB, performed by David Gagnon and Elizabeth Alexander)
(MP3, 2.5 MB, performed by David Gagnon and Elizabeth Alexander)
Trouble In a Minnesota Town
The sign in the grocery window says,
NO MANGOES,
and everyone who passes
is seized with a tropical longing:
the sun sets hot orange;
a dense perfume
loiters along the street;
on the tongue is the memory
of something softer than spun honey.
Before daylight, the whole town
is mad for the flavor of mangoes.
A spicy sweetness, almost a cross
between cloves and ginger,
lodges in the brain like a stuck tune.
By noon the record shop
has sold out of calypso albums;
reggae and salsa are going fast.
In the square, someone is showing how
to dance the mambo, the rumba,
pleading for a partner to tango,
por favor, por favor.
When the sign goes up announcing
a sale on papayas, guavas, bananas, avocados,
it is already too late.
The people have begun to paint
their slogan on the walls--
MANGOES O MUERTE--
and the mayor has received
a list of demands:
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Copyright by Neal Bowers. Reprinted by permission of the poet.
The sign in the grocery window says,
NO MANGOES,
and everyone who passes
is seized with a tropical longing:
the sun sets hot orange;
a dense perfume
loiters along the street;
on the tongue is the memory
of something softer than spun honey.
Before daylight, the whole town
is mad for the flavor of mangoes.
A spicy sweetness, almost a cross
between cloves and ginger,
lodges in the brain like a stuck tune.
By noon the record shop
has sold out of calypso albums;
reggae and salsa are going fast.
In the square, someone is showing how
to dance the mambo, the rumba,
pleading for a partner to tango,
por favor, por favor.
When the sign goes up announcing
a sale on papayas, guavas, bananas, avocados,
it is already too late.
The people have begun to paint
their slogan on the walls--
MANGOES O MUERTE--
and the mayor has received
a list of demands:
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Copyright by Neal Bowers. Reprinted by permission of the poet.