Broken Up in the Plastic Land

Dan Bern is a singer I fell in love with a number of years ago. A kind of folksy, smirking, ironic but earnest commentator on life, music, pop culture and relationships. He puts on one of the best live shows around, usually just him, a guitar and songs about Tiger Woods' great, big balls. But one song, in particular, provides the perfect commentary on life in the plasticized, shallow metropolis of Los Angeles, a city filled with thousands trying to scrape and claw their way to fame, success, notoriety, etc. For Bern, he even takes it a step further - chasing fame and fortune is a threadbare way to find love, to fill the hole we all feel, to feel like someone meaningful.

I was part of that, although I really don't believe that I did that out of some psychological or emotional need to fill. I just love movies. More than most things. Although in later years, I felt increasingly disconnected to Hollywood, the industry and the kinds of movies being made, which I think proves my point - I wasn't doing it out of an insatiable need to be part of things, to be validated, etc. I wanted to contribute and work in movies. Sure, I wanted to be successful too. I wanted that big break - who doesn't? But at a certain point, even any upside seemed outweighed by my gradual lack of affection for the industry itself.

But this song... wow, it's such a perfect encapsulation of that experience that defines so many twenty-somethings here in LA. I remember when I aloofly sneered at the line, "And I watched, as the best of my generation abandoned their dreams... and settled for making a little money". God, what pathetic people those were! 

Except that's now me. And, frankly, I don't regret it at all, though I'm trying to dip my toe back into writing, little by little. But even with maturity, and time, and transitions, this song just gets more and more true. Some is truth for me, lots of it is truth for others... it's a sad love/hate song indeed.

I saw the best of my generation playing pinball
Maked up and caked up and lookin' like some kind of china doll
With all of Adolf Hitler's moves down cold
As they stood up in front of a rock and roll band
And always moving upward and ever upward
To this gentle golden promised land
With the smartest of them all moonlighting as a word processor
And the strongest of them all checking ID's outside saloons
And the prettiest of them all taking off her clothes
In front of men whose eyes look like they were in some
Little hick town near Omaha watching the police chief
Run his car off the side of a bridge
I saw men with dreams like the ones I'd had
Beg quarters outside the 7-11
Till it got so they didn't affect me anymore
Then the mailboxes I'd passed 'cept that sometimes
I'd put something in the mailbox
I'd had the wind at my back
Now I felt it cold in my face
And for an awful long time now you were the only one who ever
Called me late at night and I really never noticed till after
You stopped calling and the emptiness, silence got so heavy

Broken up in the wasteland
Broken up in the promised land
Broken up in Disneyland
Broken up in the plastic land
Broken up in the wasteland

I saw dead Marilyn Monroe strung up on every street corner
In Hollywood like some two bit whore offering a discount rate
And I wondered how Joe Dimmagio felt
I saw dead James Dean's ghost wandering the sidewalk
Looking troubled and I wondered how his mama felt
I saw signs that said head shots done for cheap
Signs that said extras wanted top dollars paid
Signs for haircuts signs for manicures and
Signs for tanning salons and signs for wardrobe specialists
Signs for cosmetic surgery and signs for assertiveness training
And I stopped to read them all
And every single block looked like every single block
Looked like every single block looked like every single block
Looked like every single block but you kept driving
Cause everyone else kept driving and cause gridlock
Is evil and not knowing your way is evil
And those that had money looked good but weren't too happy
And those who didn't have money didn't look so good
And weren't too happy either and in a city of three million
two hundred and sixty nine thousand nine hundred eighty four
Everyone was lonely

Broken up in the wasteland
Broken up in the promised land
Broken up in Disneyland
Broken up in the plastic land
Broken up in the wasteland

And I watched as everyone I knew spent their lives
Trying to be watched on a stage or watched on a film
Or listened to on a record and they thought well maybe
That way I could get a little love out of this life
And I watched as the best of my generation abandoned their dreams
And settled for making a little money
And I watched TV and read the papers and listened to the radio
And made all the fancy scenes and said all the right words
And wore all the right clothes and knew the names of the hip people
But I still felt out of touch so I stopped watching TV
And reading the papers and listening to the radio
And making the fancy scenes and saying the right words
And wearing the right clothes and knowing the names of the hip people
And I felt more out of touch than ever but I didn't care anymore
And I felt you slipping away, and I felt myself slipping from you
And I wanted more than anything else for it to rain for one
Whole day like it used to but all there ever was was sun
Relentless sun hot beating sun and everyone wore their
Sunglasses and walked around like flies under a magnifying glass
With their eyes removed

Broken up in the wasteland
Broken up in the promised land
Broken up in Disneyland
Broken up in the plastic land
Broken up in the wasteland, broken up in the wasteland