The Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore
the Train
I am a friend and fan of Steve Eaton. His music soothes my soul and makes me curious about the stories they tell.
When I first listened to Steve's song "The Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore," it reminded me of a series of photographs I have taken of broken towns over the years. Pictures of towns a few empty buildings away from becoming a ghost town, walking the streets and meeting those who stayed listening to their stories. I heard anger from those who remained but were still hopeful their town could recover. I heard many stories about an industry shutting down, and the town followed. And lots of blame for who was responsible and jealousy of towns down the road that are thriving. I heard from people who no longer understand their fellow citizens, country, or government.
As a photographer, I see the eerie beauty of decay. Shooting in black and white captures the abstract, the light and shadow of neglect, a sense of things struck in time, a reminder of depression-era photos of the 1930s—an apocalyptic vision from a science fiction movie that has come true.
This song is a metaphor for me that our government, the Train, has abandoned many citizens. We have abandoned each other in many ways, failing to rid ourselves of hatred and not fighting for what we know is correct and just. We have become a nation extremely divided, failing to open our minds to solving the inequality so many of our citizens suffer from, a virus much worse than Covid.
The Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore has touched my heart in many ways and will increase my activism to change things for the present and future generations.
When I told Steve about my feelings for this song, he suggested we collaborate on a music video using my photographs and shooting some new videos.
Here are some of the photographs that did not make the final edit and the link to the video.
Thank you, Steve Eaton, for the music, Judy for the editing help, food, drink, and time with your kitties.
David J Gallipoli
There are Places they call small towns.
But those small towns are dying
And empty buildings are crying
And people they call small town folks
All the names I do not know
And the train doesn’t stop here anymore
And Old Glory stopped flying
