Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan Doing "You Aint Going Nowhere"
CD REVIEWS
As noted below in the reviews below as of late I have been railing against the deluge of Bob Dylan secondary material that has come on the market over the past few years, probably as a result of the Internet’s ability to tap targeted audiences for some of this more esoteric music. Given that imperative and in order to ‘enhance’ my self-described role as Dylan aficionado I have decided to make a separate entry in this space to review the various bootleg, basement and other exotic products of the man’s long career.
Dylan 'Exotica'
The “Genuine” Basement Tapes”, Volumes 1-5, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), Alternate Edge Productions, 2002
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. In short, these five volumes of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. From Volume One- “Odds And Ends” and "Goin' To Acapulco". From Volume Two- “Quinn The Eskimo”. From Volume Three-“Tiny Montgomery”, “Santa Fe” and “Sign Of The Cross (excellent)”. From Volume Four- “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”, “Confidential To Me” and “Bring It On Home”. From Volume Five (the album to get if you get just one)-“Four Strong Winds”, Joshua Gone Barbados” “I Forgot To Remember To Forget”, “Bells Of Rhymney”, “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue”, “Cool Water”, “Banks Of The Royal Canal”. These are all covers and very nicely done.
This space is dedicated to the proposition that we need to know the history of the struggles on the left and of earlier progressive movements here and world-wide. If we can learn from the mistakes made in the past (as well as what went right) we can move forward in the future to create a more just and equitable society. We will be reviewing books, CDs, and movies we believe everyone needs to read, hear and look at as well as making commentary from time to time. Greg Green, site manager
Saturday, June 20, 2009
*The Bob Dylan Bootleg Legacy- "Genuine" And "Fake" Basement Tapes, Volume Three
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan Doing "Tiny Montgomery"
CD REVIEWS
As noted below in the reviews below as of late I have been railing against the deluge of Bob Dylan secondary material that has come on the market over the past few years, probably as a result of the Internet’s ability to tap targeted audiences for some of this more esoteric music. Given that imperative and in order to ‘enhance’ my self-described role as Dylan aficionado I have decided to make a separate entry in this space to review the various bootleg, basement and other exotic products of the man’s long career.
Dylan 'Exotica'
The “Genuine” Basement Tapes”, Volumes 1-5, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), Alternate Edge Productions, 2002
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. In short, these five volumes of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. From Volume One- “Odds And Ends” and "Goin' To Acapulco". From Volume Two- “Quinn The Eskimo”. From Volume Three-“Tiny Montgomery”, “Santa Fe” and “Sign Of The Cross (excellent)”. From Volume Four- “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”, “Confidential To Me” and “Bring It On Home”. From Volume Five (the album to get if you get just one)-“Four Strong Winds”, Joshua Gone Barbados” “I Forgot To Remember To Forget”, “Bells Of Rhymney”, “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue”, “Cool Water”, “Banks Of The Royal Canal”. These are all covers and very nicely done.
CD REVIEWS
As noted below in the reviews below as of late I have been railing against the deluge of Bob Dylan secondary material that has come on the market over the past few years, probably as a result of the Internet’s ability to tap targeted audiences for some of this more esoteric music. Given that imperative and in order to ‘enhance’ my self-described role as Dylan aficionado I have decided to make a separate entry in this space to review the various bootleg, basement and other exotic products of the man’s long career.
Dylan 'Exotica'
The “Genuine” Basement Tapes”, Volumes 1-5, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), Alternate Edge Productions, 2002
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. In short, these five volumes of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. From Volume One- “Odds And Ends” and "Goin' To Acapulco". From Volume Two- “Quinn The Eskimo”. From Volume Three-“Tiny Montgomery”, “Santa Fe” and “Sign Of The Cross (excellent)”. From Volume Four- “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”, “Confidential To Me” and “Bring It On Home”. From Volume Five (the album to get if you get just one)-“Four Strong Winds”, Joshua Gone Barbados” “I Forgot To Remember To Forget”, “Bells Of Rhymney”, “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue”, “Cool Water”, “Banks Of The Royal Canal”. These are all covers and very nicely done.
*The Bob Dylan Bootleg Legacy- "Genuine" And "Fake" Basement Tapes, Volume One
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan Doing "Hills Of Mexico".
CD REVIEWS
As noted below in the reviews below as of late I have been railing against the deluge of Bob Dylan secondary material that has come on the market over the past few years, probably as a result of the Internet’s ability to tap targeted audiences for some of this more esoteric music. Given that imperative and in order to ‘enhance’ my self-described role as Dylan aficionado I have decided to make a separate entry in this space to review the various bootleg, basement and other exotic products of the man’s long career.
Dylan 'Exotica'
The “Genuine” Basement Tapes”, Volumes 1-5, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), Alternate Edge Productions, 2002
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. In short, these five volumes of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. From Volume One- “Odds And Ends” and "Goin' To Acapulco". From Volume Two- “Quinn The Eskimo”. From Volume Three-“Tiny Montgomery”, “Santa Fe” and “Sign Of The Cross (excellent)”. From Volume Four- “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”, “Confidential To Me” and “Bring It On Home”. From Volume Five (the album to get if you get just one)-“Four Strong Winds”, Joshua Gone Barbados” “I Forgot To Remember To Forget”, “Bells Of Rhymney”, “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue”, “Cool Water”, “Banks Of The Royal Canal”. These are all covers and very nicely done.
CD REVIEWS
As noted below in the reviews below as of late I have been railing against the deluge of Bob Dylan secondary material that has come on the market over the past few years, probably as a result of the Internet’s ability to tap targeted audiences for some of this more esoteric music. Given that imperative and in order to ‘enhance’ my self-described role as Dylan aficionado I have decided to make a separate entry in this space to review the various bootleg, basement and other exotic products of the man’s long career.
Dylan 'Exotica'
The “Genuine” Basement Tapes”, Volumes 1-5, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), Alternate Edge Productions, 2002
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. In short, these five volumes of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. From Volume One- “Odds And Ends” and "Goin' To Acapulco". From Volume Two- “Quinn The Eskimo”. From Volume Three-“Tiny Montgomery”, “Santa Fe” and “Sign Of The Cross (excellent)”. From Volume Four- “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”, “Confidential To Me” and “Bring It On Home”. From Volume Five (the album to get if you get just one)-“Four Strong Winds”, Joshua Gone Barbados” “I Forgot To Remember To Forget”, “Bells Of Rhymney”, “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue”, “Cool Water”, “Banks Of The Royal Canal”. These are all covers and very nicely done.
*The Bob Dylan Bootleg Legacy- "Genuine" And "Fake" Basement Tapes
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan(And The Band) Doing His "Sign Of The Cross".
CD REVIEWS
As noted below in the reviews below as of late I have been railing against the deluge of Bob Dylan secondary material that has come on the market over the past few years, probably as a result of the Internet’s ability to tap targeted audiences for some of this more esoteric music. Given that imperative and in order to ‘enhance’ my self-described role as Dylan aficionado I have decided to make a separate entry in this space to review the various bootleg, basement and other exotic products of the man’s long career.
Dylan 'Exotica'
The “Genuine” Basement Tapes”, Volumes 1-5, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), Alternate Edge Productions, 2002
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. In short, these five volumes of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. From Volume One- “Odds And Ends” and "Goin' To Acapulco". From Volume Two- “Quinn The Eskimo”. From Volume Three-“Tiny Montgomery”, “Santa Fe” and “Sign Of The Cross (excellent)”. From Volume Four- “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”, “Confidential To Me” and “Bring It On Home”. From Volume Five (the album to get if you get just one)-“Four Strong Winds”, Joshua Gone Barbados” “I Forgot To Remember To Forget”, “Bells Of Rhymney”, “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue”, “Cool Water”, “Banks Of The Royal Canal”. These are all covers and very nicely done.
SIGN ON THE CROSS
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1971, 1973 Dwarf Music
Now, I try, oh for so awf'ly long
And I just try to be.
And now, oh it's a gold mine
But it's so fine.
Yes, but I know in my head
That we're all so misled,
And it's that ol' sign on the cross
That worries me.
Now, when I was just a bawlin' child,
I saw what I wanted to be,
And it's all for the sake
Of that picture I should see.
But I was lost on the moon
As I heard that front door slam,
And that old sign on the cross
Still worries me.
Well, it's that old sign on the cross,
Well, it's that old key to the kingdom,
Well, it's that old sign on the cross
Like you used to be.
But, when I hold my head so high
As I see my ol' friends go by,
And it's still that sign on the cross
That worries me.
Well, it seems to be the sign on the cross. Ev'ry day,
ev'ry night, see the sign on the cross just layin' up
on top of the hill. Yes, we thought it might have
disappeared long ago, but I'm here to tell you, friends,
that I'm afraid it's lyin' there still. Yes, just a
little time is all you need, you might say, but I don't
know 'bout that any more, because the bird is here and
you might want to enter it, but, of course, the door might
be closed. But I just would like to tell you one time,
if I don't see you again, that the thing is, that the sign
on the cross is the thing you might need the most.
Yes, the sign on the cross
Is just a sign on the cross.
Well, there is some on every chisel
And there is some in the championship, too.
Oh, when your, when your days are numbered
And your nights are long,
You might think you're weak
But I mean to say you're strong.
Yes you are, if that sign on the cross,
If it begins to worry you.
Well, that's all right because sing a song
And all your troubles will pass right on through.
QUINN, THE ESKIMO
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1968,1976 Dwarf Music
Ev'rybody's building the big ships and the boats,
Some are building monuments,
Others, jotting down notes,
Ev'rybody's in despair,
Ev'ry girl and boy
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here,
Ev'rybody's gonna jump for joy.
Come all without, come all within,
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.
I like to do just like the rest, I like my sugar sweet,
But guarding fumes and making haste,
It ain't my cup of meat.
Ev'rybody's 'neath the trees,
Feeding pigeons on a limb
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here,
All the pigeons gonna run to him.
Come all without, come all within,
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.
A cat's meow and a cow's moo, I can recite 'em all,
Just tell me where it hurts yuh, honey,
And I'll tell you who to call.
Nobody can get no sleep,
There's someone on ev'ryone's toes
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here,
Ev'rybody's gonna wanna doze.
Come all without, come all within,
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.
GOIN' TO ACAPULCO
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1975 Dwarf Music
I'm going down to Rose Marie's
She never does me wrong.
She puts it to me plain as day
And gives it to me for a song.
It's a wicked life but what the hell
The stars ain't falling down.
I'm standing outside the Taj Mahal
I don't see no one around.
Goin' to Acapulco
Goin' on the run.
Goin' down to see fat gut
Goin' to have some fun.
Yeah
Goin' to have some fun.
Now, whenever I get up
And I ain't got what I see
I just make it down to Rose Marie's
'Bout a quarter after three.
There are worse ways of getting there
And I ain't complainin' none.
If the clouds don't drop and the train don't stop
I'm bound to meet the sun.
Goin' to Acapulco
Goin' on the run.
Goin' down to see some girl
Goin' to have some fun.
Yeah
Goin' to have some fun.
Now, if someone offers me a joke
I just say no thanks.
I try to tell it like it is
And keep away from pranks.
Well, sometime you know when the well breaks down
I just go pump on it some.
Rose Marie, she likes to go to big places
And just set there waitin' for me to come.
Goin' to Acapulco
Goin' on the run.
Goin' down to see some girl
Goin' to have some fun.
Yeah
Goin' to have some fun.
Strictly For Aficionados
The Basement Tapes, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), CBS Records, 1975
Parts of this review were used in a review of The “Genuine” Basement Tapes. I make most of the same objections here for this set as I did their, except if you need to choose between the two the quality of the production values here is greater than on the former. Although the more I listen to Volume 5 of the “genuine” with that “Joshua Gone Barbados” and the hard to hear but mesmerizing cover of “ I Forgot To Remember to Forget” and a couple of others I am starting to waver.
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. That same sentiment applies to the virtuoso work of The Band in their heyday. And certainly to their joint work In short, this two disc set of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. “Tears Of Rage” ; “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”; “Yazoo Street Scandal” and “Goin' To Acapulco" are what you are getting this CD for. That does not seem like enough given what I mentioned above.
TEARS OF RAGE
Words by Bob Dylan and Music by Richard Manuel
1968,1970 Dwarf Music
We carried you in our arms
On Independence Day,
And now you'd throw us all aside
And put us on our way.
Oh what dear daughter 'neath the sun
Would treat a father so,
To wait upon him hand and foot
And always tell him, "No"?
Tears of rage, tears of grief,
Why must I always be the thief?
Come to me now, you know
We're so alone
And life is brief.
We pointed out the way to go
And scratched your name in sand,
Though you just thought it was nothing more
Than a place for you to stand.
Now, I want you to know that while we watched,
You discover there was no one true.
Most ev'rybody really thought
It was a childish thing to do.
Tears of rage, tears of grief,
Must I always be the thief?
Come to me now, you know
We're so low
And life is brief.
It was all very painless
When you went out to receive
All that false instruction
Which we never could believe.
And now the heart is filled with gold
As if it was a purse.
But, oh, what kind of love is this
Which goes from bad to worse?
Tears of rage, tears of grief,
Must I always be the thief?
Come to me now, you know
We're so low
And life is brief.
YOU AIN'T GOIN' NOWHERE
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1967,1972 Dwarf Music
Clouds so swift
Rain won't lift
Gate won't close
Railings froze
Get your mind off wintertime
You ain't goin' nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow's the day
My bride's gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!
I don't care
How many letters they sent
Morning came and morning went
Pick up your money
And pack up your tent
You ain't goin' nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow's the day
My bride's gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!
Buy me a flute
And a gun that shoots
Tailgates and substitutes
Strap yourself
To the tree with roots
You ain't goin' nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow's the day
My bride's gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!
Genghis Khan
He could not keep
All his kings
Supplied with sleep
We'll climb that hill no matter how steep
When we get up to it
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow's the day
My bride's gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!
Guest Commentary
I have mentioned in my review of Martin Scorsese's "No Direction Home; The Legacy Of Bob Dylan" (see archives) that Dylan's protest/social commentary driven lyrics dovetailed with my, and others of my generation's, struggle to make sense of a world at war (cold or otherwise)and filled with injustices and constricting values. Here are the lyrics of three songs-"Blowin' In The Wind", "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and "Like A Rolling Stone" that can serve as examples of why we responded to his messages the way we did. Kudos Bob.
The Times They Are A-Changin'
Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.
Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Blowin' In The Wind
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Copyright ©1962; renewed 1990 Special Rider Music
Like A Rolling Stone
Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it
You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
Copyright ©1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music
CD REVIEWS
As noted below in the reviews below as of late I have been railing against the deluge of Bob Dylan secondary material that has come on the market over the past few years, probably as a result of the Internet’s ability to tap targeted audiences for some of this more esoteric music. Given that imperative and in order to ‘enhance’ my self-described role as Dylan aficionado I have decided to make a separate entry in this space to review the various bootleg, basement and other exotic products of the man’s long career.
Dylan 'Exotica'
The “Genuine” Basement Tapes”, Volumes 1-5, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), Alternate Edge Productions, 2002
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. In short, these five volumes of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. From Volume One- “Odds And Ends” and "Goin' To Acapulco". From Volume Two- “Quinn The Eskimo”. From Volume Three-“Tiny Montgomery”, “Santa Fe” and “Sign Of The Cross (excellent)”. From Volume Four- “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”, “Confidential To Me” and “Bring It On Home”. From Volume Five (the album to get if you get just one)-“Four Strong Winds”, Joshua Gone Barbados” “I Forgot To Remember To Forget”, “Bells Of Rhymney”, “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue”, “Cool Water”, “Banks Of The Royal Canal”. These are all covers and very nicely done.
SIGN ON THE CROSS
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1971, 1973 Dwarf Music
Now, I try, oh for so awf'ly long
And I just try to be.
And now, oh it's a gold mine
But it's so fine.
Yes, but I know in my head
That we're all so misled,
And it's that ol' sign on the cross
That worries me.
Now, when I was just a bawlin' child,
I saw what I wanted to be,
And it's all for the sake
Of that picture I should see.
But I was lost on the moon
As I heard that front door slam,
And that old sign on the cross
Still worries me.
Well, it's that old sign on the cross,
Well, it's that old key to the kingdom,
Well, it's that old sign on the cross
Like you used to be.
But, when I hold my head so high
As I see my ol' friends go by,
And it's still that sign on the cross
That worries me.
Well, it seems to be the sign on the cross. Ev'ry day,
ev'ry night, see the sign on the cross just layin' up
on top of the hill. Yes, we thought it might have
disappeared long ago, but I'm here to tell you, friends,
that I'm afraid it's lyin' there still. Yes, just a
little time is all you need, you might say, but I don't
know 'bout that any more, because the bird is here and
you might want to enter it, but, of course, the door might
be closed. But I just would like to tell you one time,
if I don't see you again, that the thing is, that the sign
on the cross is the thing you might need the most.
Yes, the sign on the cross
Is just a sign on the cross.
Well, there is some on every chisel
And there is some in the championship, too.
Oh, when your, when your days are numbered
And your nights are long,
You might think you're weak
But I mean to say you're strong.
Yes you are, if that sign on the cross,
If it begins to worry you.
Well, that's all right because sing a song
And all your troubles will pass right on through.
QUINN, THE ESKIMO
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1968,1976 Dwarf Music
Ev'rybody's building the big ships and the boats,
Some are building monuments,
Others, jotting down notes,
Ev'rybody's in despair,
Ev'ry girl and boy
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here,
Ev'rybody's gonna jump for joy.
Come all without, come all within,
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.
I like to do just like the rest, I like my sugar sweet,
But guarding fumes and making haste,
It ain't my cup of meat.
Ev'rybody's 'neath the trees,
Feeding pigeons on a limb
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here,
All the pigeons gonna run to him.
Come all without, come all within,
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.
A cat's meow and a cow's moo, I can recite 'em all,
Just tell me where it hurts yuh, honey,
And I'll tell you who to call.
Nobody can get no sleep,
There's someone on ev'ryone's toes
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here,
Ev'rybody's gonna wanna doze.
Come all without, come all within,
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.
GOIN' TO ACAPULCO
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1975 Dwarf Music
I'm going down to Rose Marie's
She never does me wrong.
She puts it to me plain as day
And gives it to me for a song.
It's a wicked life but what the hell
The stars ain't falling down.
I'm standing outside the Taj Mahal
I don't see no one around.
Goin' to Acapulco
Goin' on the run.
Goin' down to see fat gut
Goin' to have some fun.
Yeah
Goin' to have some fun.
Now, whenever I get up
And I ain't got what I see
I just make it down to Rose Marie's
'Bout a quarter after three.
There are worse ways of getting there
And I ain't complainin' none.
If the clouds don't drop and the train don't stop
I'm bound to meet the sun.
Goin' to Acapulco
Goin' on the run.
Goin' down to see some girl
Goin' to have some fun.
Yeah
Goin' to have some fun.
Now, if someone offers me a joke
I just say no thanks.
I try to tell it like it is
And keep away from pranks.
Well, sometime you know when the well breaks down
I just go pump on it some.
Rose Marie, she likes to go to big places
And just set there waitin' for me to come.
Goin' to Acapulco
Goin' on the run.
Goin' down to see some girl
Goin' to have some fun.
Yeah
Goin' to have some fun.
Strictly For Aficionados
The Basement Tapes, Bob Dylan and The Band (1967 members), CBS Records, 1975
Parts of this review were used in a review of The “Genuine” Basement Tapes. I make most of the same objections here for this set as I did their, except if you need to choose between the two the quality of the production values here is greater than on the former. Although the more I listen to Volume 5 of the “genuine” with that “Joshua Gone Barbados” and the hard to hear but mesmerizing cover of “ I Forgot To Remember to Forget” and a couple of others I am starting to waver.
In a review of Bob Dylan’s “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan” elsewhere in this space I noted:
“In reviewing Bob Dylan’s 1965 classic album “Bringing All Back Home” (you know, the one where he went electric) I mentioned that it seemed hard to believe now that both as to the performer as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). I further pointed out that it is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.”
And I am still glad of that fact. What I am less enamored of is the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various, bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd locations versions of Dylan’s work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan’s usually well-produced albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, somehow, left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material. That same sentiment applies to the virtuoso work of The Band in their heyday. And certainly to their joint work In short, this two disc set of practice, outtakes, cuts, etc. done with The Band while he was “hiding” out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident are strictly for aficionados.
That said, for those who insist on getting their little hands on this material here is the “scoop”. “Tears Of Rage” ; “You Ain’t Going Nowhere”; “Yazoo Street Scandal” and “Goin' To Acapulco" are what you are getting this CD for. That does not seem like enough given what I mentioned above.
TEARS OF RAGE
Words by Bob Dylan and Music by Richard Manuel
1968,1970 Dwarf Music
We carried you in our arms
On Independence Day,
And now you'd throw us all aside
And put us on our way.
Oh what dear daughter 'neath the sun
Would treat a father so,
To wait upon him hand and foot
And always tell him, "No"?
Tears of rage, tears of grief,
Why must I always be the thief?
Come to me now, you know
We're so alone
And life is brief.
We pointed out the way to go
And scratched your name in sand,
Though you just thought it was nothing more
Than a place for you to stand.
Now, I want you to know that while we watched,
You discover there was no one true.
Most ev'rybody really thought
It was a childish thing to do.
Tears of rage, tears of grief,
Must I always be the thief?
Come to me now, you know
We're so low
And life is brief.
It was all very painless
When you went out to receive
All that false instruction
Which we never could believe.
And now the heart is filled with gold
As if it was a purse.
But, oh, what kind of love is this
Which goes from bad to worse?
Tears of rage, tears of grief,
Must I always be the thief?
Come to me now, you know
We're so low
And life is brief.
YOU AIN'T GOIN' NOWHERE
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1967,1972 Dwarf Music
Clouds so swift
Rain won't lift
Gate won't close
Railings froze
Get your mind off wintertime
You ain't goin' nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow's the day
My bride's gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!
I don't care
How many letters they sent
Morning came and morning went
Pick up your money
And pack up your tent
You ain't goin' nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow's the day
My bride's gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!
Buy me a flute
And a gun that shoots
Tailgates and substitutes
Strap yourself
To the tree with roots
You ain't goin' nowhere
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow's the day
My bride's gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!
Genghis Khan
He could not keep
All his kings
Supplied with sleep
We'll climb that hill no matter how steep
When we get up to it
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow's the day
My bride's gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!
Guest Commentary
I have mentioned in my review of Martin Scorsese's "No Direction Home; The Legacy Of Bob Dylan" (see archives) that Dylan's protest/social commentary driven lyrics dovetailed with my, and others of my generation's, struggle to make sense of a world at war (cold or otherwise)and filled with injustices and constricting values. Here are the lyrics of three songs-"Blowin' In The Wind", "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and "Like A Rolling Stone" that can serve as examples of why we responded to his messages the way we did. Kudos Bob.
The Times They Are A-Changin'
Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.
Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Blowin' In The Wind
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Copyright ©1962; renewed 1990 Special Rider Music
Like A Rolling Stone
Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it
You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
Copyright ©1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music
Thursday, June 18, 2009
*The Genesis of The Folk Revival - A New Lost City Ramblers Encore
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The New Lost City Ramblers In Concert.
CD Review
The New Lost City Ramblers: The Early Years, 1958-1962, The New Lost City Ramblers, Smithstonian/Follways, 1991
Recently I was listening to a local talk show here in Boston in which the subject was which way at least part of the American music scene was headed. One of the premises of the show was that roots music, you know, the blues, jazz, and the mountain music presented here in this album was once again going to form the new “in " music. Fair enough. These genres have been mined before for their expressions of Americana and they can be mined in the future for that same purpose. But here is the question that I have that underlies that above-mentioned radio show premise. How is it that “roots” music, and here I want to concentrate on mountain music and other traditions genres, transmitted?
Well, one answer to that question, before the last “dust-up’ a few years ago with the movies “The Song Catcher” and George Clooney’s “Brother, Where Art Thou”, was the folk revival of the early 1960’s. And one of the key groups that consciously sought to find and play that music in its old form was the group under review, The New Lost City Ramblers. Needless to say, having Mike Seeger the legendary Pete’s Seeger's half-brother involved meant that there is going to be a very deep respect for those traditions. And it shows here in this compilation of their work from 1963-73. There is pure mountain music, some ragtime, some elemental jazzy things, some impromptu jug music, a little talking blues, some politics of the liberal FDR kind; in short everything one needs to investigate the music of the folk before the arrival of serious technology changed the regional nature of folk and traditional music forever. Listen here for thoughtful renditions of these types of music and respect for the instrumentation of the times.
HOW CAN A POOR MAN STAND SUCH TIMES AND LIVE ?
Blind Alfred Reed - 1929
There once was a time when everything was cheap,
But now prices nearly puts a man to sleep.
When we pay our grocery bill,
We just feel like making our will --
I remember when dry goods were cheap as dirt,
We could take two bits and buy a dandy shirt.
Now we pay three bucks or more,
Maybe get a shirt that another man wore --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, I used to trade with a man by the name of Gray,
Flour was fifty cents for a twenty-four pound bag.
Now it's a dollar and a half beside,
Just like a-skinning off a flea for the hide --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Oh, the schools we have today ain't worth a cent,
But they see to it that every child is sent.
If we don't send everyday,
We have a heavy fine to pay --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Prohibition's good if 'tis conducted right,
There's no sense in shooting a man 'til he shows flight.
Officers kill without a cause,
They complain about funny laws --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Most all preachers preach for gold and not for souls,
That's what keeps a poor man always in a hole.
We can hardly get our breath,
Taxed and schooled and preached to death --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Oh, it's time for every man to be awake,
We pay fifty cents a pound when we ask for steak.
When we get our package home,
A little wad of paper with gristle and a bone --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, the doctor comes around with a face all bright,
And he says in a little while you'll be all right.
All he gives is a humbug pill,
A dose of dope and a great big bill --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
We've Got Franklin Delano Roosevelt Back Again Lyrics
WE'VE GOT FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT BACK AGAIN
Just hand me my old Martin for soon I will be startin'
Back to dear old Charleston far away
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected, we'll not be neglected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Back again, back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got legal wine, whiskey, beer and gin
I'll take a drink of brandy and let myself be handy
Good old times are coming back again
You can laugh and tell a joke, you can dance and drink and smoke
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We'll have money in our jeans
We can travel with the queen
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
No more breadlines, we're happy to say the donkey won election
day
No more standing in the blowing, snowing rain
He's got things in full swing, we're all working and getting our
pay
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
No Depression In Heaven
For fear the hearts of men are failing,
For these are latter days we know
The Great Depression now is spreading,
God's word declared it would be so
I'm going where there's no depression,
To the lovely land that's free from care
I'll leave this world of toil and trouble,
My home's in Heaven, I'm going there
In that bright land, there'll be no hunger,
No orphan children crying for bread,
No weeping widows, toil or struggle,
No shrouds, no coffins, and no death
This dark hour of midnight nearing
And tribulation time will come
The storms will hurl in midnight fear
And sweep lost millions to their doom
My Sweet Farm Girl - Clarence Ashley
Lyrics:
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
She knows I know how to keep her satisfied
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
Pull up the hose; I keep her lawn all wet
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
We eat our breakfast, then we ride on back to town
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I plow her land, and then I sow my seeds
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
She loves her daddy because I'm long and hard
Notes:
Recorded on December 1, 1931 in New York City. Ashley plays guitar and sings, with Gwen Foster on guitar and harmonica. The sexual connotations are rather obvious.
Battleship Of Maine - Lyrics & Chords
C
Mc Kinley called for volunteers,
Then I got my gun,
F
First Spaniard I saw coming
C
I dropped my gun and run,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
Chorus:
C
At war with that great nation Spain,
When I get back to Spain I want to honor my name,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
Why are you running,
Are you afraid to die,
The reason that I'm running
Is because I cannot fly,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
The blood was a-running
And I was running too,
I give my feet good exercise,
I had nothing else to do,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
When they were a-chasing me,
I fell down on my knees,
First thing I cast my eyes upon
Was a great big pot of peas,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
The peas they were greasy,
The meat it was fat,
The boys was fighting Spaniards
While I was fighting that,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
CD Review
The New Lost City Ramblers: The Early Years, 1958-1962, The New Lost City Ramblers, Smithstonian/Follways, 1991
Recently I was listening to a local talk show here in Boston in which the subject was which way at least part of the American music scene was headed. One of the premises of the show was that roots music, you know, the blues, jazz, and the mountain music presented here in this album was once again going to form the new “in " music. Fair enough. These genres have been mined before for their expressions of Americana and they can be mined in the future for that same purpose. But here is the question that I have that underlies that above-mentioned radio show premise. How is it that “roots” music, and here I want to concentrate on mountain music and other traditions genres, transmitted?
Well, one answer to that question, before the last “dust-up’ a few years ago with the movies “The Song Catcher” and George Clooney’s “Brother, Where Art Thou”, was the folk revival of the early 1960’s. And one of the key groups that consciously sought to find and play that music in its old form was the group under review, The New Lost City Ramblers. Needless to say, having Mike Seeger the legendary Pete’s Seeger's half-brother involved meant that there is going to be a very deep respect for those traditions. And it shows here in this compilation of their work from 1963-73. There is pure mountain music, some ragtime, some elemental jazzy things, some impromptu jug music, a little talking blues, some politics of the liberal FDR kind; in short everything one needs to investigate the music of the folk before the arrival of serious technology changed the regional nature of folk and traditional music forever. Listen here for thoughtful renditions of these types of music and respect for the instrumentation of the times.
HOW CAN A POOR MAN STAND SUCH TIMES AND LIVE ?
Blind Alfred Reed - 1929
There once was a time when everything was cheap,
But now prices nearly puts a man to sleep.
When we pay our grocery bill,
We just feel like making our will --
I remember when dry goods were cheap as dirt,
We could take two bits and buy a dandy shirt.
Now we pay three bucks or more,
Maybe get a shirt that another man wore --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, I used to trade with a man by the name of Gray,
Flour was fifty cents for a twenty-four pound bag.
Now it's a dollar and a half beside,
Just like a-skinning off a flea for the hide --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Oh, the schools we have today ain't worth a cent,
But they see to it that every child is sent.
If we don't send everyday,
We have a heavy fine to pay --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Prohibition's good if 'tis conducted right,
There's no sense in shooting a man 'til he shows flight.
Officers kill without a cause,
They complain about funny laws --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Most all preachers preach for gold and not for souls,
That's what keeps a poor man always in a hole.
We can hardly get our breath,
Taxed and schooled and preached to death --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Oh, it's time for every man to be awake,
We pay fifty cents a pound when we ask for steak.
When we get our package home,
A little wad of paper with gristle and a bone --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, the doctor comes around with a face all bright,
And he says in a little while you'll be all right.
All he gives is a humbug pill,
A dose of dope and a great big bill --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
We've Got Franklin Delano Roosevelt Back Again Lyrics
WE'VE GOT FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT BACK AGAIN
Just hand me my old Martin for soon I will be startin'
Back to dear old Charleston far away
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected, we'll not be neglected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Back again, back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got legal wine, whiskey, beer and gin
I'll take a drink of brandy and let myself be handy
Good old times are coming back again
You can laugh and tell a joke, you can dance and drink and smoke
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We'll have money in our jeans
We can travel with the queen
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
No more breadlines, we're happy to say the donkey won election
day
No more standing in the blowing, snowing rain
He's got things in full swing, we're all working and getting our
pay
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
No Depression In Heaven
For fear the hearts of men are failing,
For these are latter days we know
The Great Depression now is spreading,
God's word declared it would be so
I'm going where there's no depression,
To the lovely land that's free from care
I'll leave this world of toil and trouble,
My home's in Heaven, I'm going there
In that bright land, there'll be no hunger,
No orphan children crying for bread,
No weeping widows, toil or struggle,
No shrouds, no coffins, and no death
This dark hour of midnight nearing
And tribulation time will come
The storms will hurl in midnight fear
And sweep lost millions to their doom
My Sweet Farm Girl - Clarence Ashley
Lyrics:
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
She knows I know how to keep her satisfied
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
Pull up the hose; I keep her lawn all wet
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
We eat our breakfast, then we ride on back to town
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I plow her land, and then I sow my seeds
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
She loves her daddy because I'm long and hard
Notes:
Recorded on December 1, 1931 in New York City. Ashley plays guitar and sings, with Gwen Foster on guitar and harmonica. The sexual connotations are rather obvious.
Battleship Of Maine - Lyrics & Chords
C
Mc Kinley called for volunteers,
Then I got my gun,
F
First Spaniard I saw coming
C
I dropped my gun and run,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
Chorus:
C
At war with that great nation Spain,
When I get back to Spain I want to honor my name,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
Why are you running,
Are you afraid to die,
The reason that I'm running
Is because I cannot fly,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
The blood was a-running
And I was running too,
I give my feet good exercise,
I had nothing else to do,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
When they were a-chasing me,
I fell down on my knees,
First thing I cast my eyes upon
Was a great big pot of peas,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
The peas they were greasy,
The meat it was fat,
The boys was fighting Spaniards
While I was fighting that,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
*They'll Be Coming Around The Mountain-Again- The Music Of Appalachia-The New Lost City Ramblers
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The New Lost City Ramblers.
CD Review
Outstanding In Their Field, Volume II, 1963-73, The New Lost City Ramblers, Smithstonian/Follways, 1993
Recently I was listening to a local talk show here in Boston in which the subject was which way at least part of the American music scene was headed. One of the premises of the show was that roots music, you know, the blues, jazz, and the mountain music presented here in this album was once again going to form the new “in " music. Fair enough. These genres have been mined before for their expressions of Americana and they can be mined in the future for that same purpose. But here is the question that I have that underlies that above-mentioned radio show premise. How is it that “roots” music, and here I want to concentrate on mountain music and other traditions genres, transmitted?
Well, one answer to that question, before the last “dust-up’ a few years ago with the movies "The Song Catcher" and George Clooney’s "Brother, Where Art Thou", was the folk revival of the early 1960’s. And one of the key groups that consciously sought to find and play that music in its old form was the group under review, The New Lost City Ramblers. Needless to say, having Mike Seeger the legendary Pete’s Seeger's half-brother involved meant that there is going to be a very deep respect for those traditions. And it shows here in this compilation of their work from 1963-73. There is pure mountain music, some ragtime, some elemental jazzy things, some impromptu jug music, a little talking blues, Cajun; in short everything one needs to investigate the music of the folk before the arrival of serious technology changed the regional nature of folk and traditional music forever. Listen here for thoughtful renditions of these types of music and respect for the instrumentation of the times.
HOW CAN A POOR MAN STAND SUCH TIMES AND LIVE ?
Blind Alfred Reed - 1929
There once was a time when everything was cheap,
But now prices nearly puts a man to sleep.
When we pay our grocery bill,
We just feel like making our will --
I remember when dry goods were cheap as dirt,
We could take two bits and buy a dandy shirt.
Now we pay three bucks or more,
Maybe get a shirt that another man wore --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, I used to trade with a man by the name of Gray,
Flour was fifty cents for a twenty-four pound bag.
Now it's a dollar and a half beside,
Just like a-skinning off a flea for the hide --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Oh, the schools we have today ain't worth a cent,
But they see to it that every child is sent.
If we don't send everyday,
We have a heavy fine to pay --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Prohibition's good if 'tis conducted right,
There's no sense in shooting a man 'til he shows flight.
Officers kill without a cause,
They complain about funny laws --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Most all preachers preach for gold and not for souls,
That's what keeps a poor man always in a hole.
We can hardly get our breath,
Taxed and schooled and preached to death --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Oh, it's time for every man to be awake,
We pay fifty cents a pound when we ask for steak.
When we get our package home,
A little wad of paper with gristle and a bone --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, the doctor comes around with a face all bright,
And he says in a little while you'll be all right.
All he gives is a humbug pill,
A dose of dope and a great big bill --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
We've Got Franklin Delano Roosevelt Back Again Lyrics
WE'VE GOT FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT BACK AGAIN
Just hand me my old Martin for soon I will be startin'
Back to dear old Charleston far away
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected, we'll not be neglected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Back again, back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got legal wine, whiskey, beer and gin
I'll take a drink of brandy and let myself be handy
Good old times are coming back again
You can laugh and tell a joke, you can dance and drink and smoke
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We'll have money in our jeans
We can travel with the queen
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
No more breadlines, we're happy to say the donkey won election
day
No more standing in the blowing, snowing rain
He's got things in full swing, we're all working and getting our
pay
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
No Depression In Heaven
For fear the hearts of men are failing,
For these are latter days we know
The Great Depression now is spreading,
God's word declared it would be so
I'm going where there's no depression,
To the lovely land that's free from care
I'll leave this world of toil and trouble,
My home's in Heaven, I'm going there
In that bright land, there'll be no hunger,
No orphan children crying for bread,
No weeping widows, toil or struggle,
No shrouds, no coffins, and no death
This dark hour of midnight nearing
And tribulation time will come
The storms will hurl in midnight fear
And sweep lost millions to their doom
My Sweet Farm Girl - Clarence Ashley
Lyrics:
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
She knows I know how to keep her satisfied
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
Pull up the hose; I keep her lawn all wet
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
We eat our breakfast, then we ride on back to town
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I plow her land, and then I sow my seeds
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
She loves her daddy because I'm long and hard
Notes:
Recorded on December 1, 1931 in New York City. Ashley plays guitar and sings, with Gwen Foster on guitar and harmonica. The sexual connotations are rather obvious.
Battleship Of Maine - Lyrics & Chords
C
Mc Kinley called for volunteers,
Then I got my gun,
F
First Spaniard I saw coming
C
I dropped my gun and run,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
Chorus:
C
At war with that great nation Spain,
When I get back to Spain I want to honor my name,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
Why are you running,
Are you afraid to die,
The reason that I'm running
Is because I cannot fly,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
The blood was a-running
And I was running too,
I give my feet good exercise,
I had nothing else to do,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
When they were a-chasing me,
I fell down on my knees,
First thing I cast my eyes upon
Was a great big pot of peas,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
The peas they were greasy,
The meat it was fat,
The boys was fighting Spaniards
While I was fighting that,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
CD Review
Outstanding In Their Field, Volume II, 1963-73, The New Lost City Ramblers, Smithstonian/Follways, 1993
Recently I was listening to a local talk show here in Boston in which the subject was which way at least part of the American music scene was headed. One of the premises of the show was that roots music, you know, the blues, jazz, and the mountain music presented here in this album was once again going to form the new “in " music. Fair enough. These genres have been mined before for their expressions of Americana and they can be mined in the future for that same purpose. But here is the question that I have that underlies that above-mentioned radio show premise. How is it that “roots” music, and here I want to concentrate on mountain music and other traditions genres, transmitted?
Well, one answer to that question, before the last “dust-up’ a few years ago with the movies "The Song Catcher" and George Clooney’s "Brother, Where Art Thou", was the folk revival of the early 1960’s. And one of the key groups that consciously sought to find and play that music in its old form was the group under review, The New Lost City Ramblers. Needless to say, having Mike Seeger the legendary Pete’s Seeger's half-brother involved meant that there is going to be a very deep respect for those traditions. And it shows here in this compilation of their work from 1963-73. There is pure mountain music, some ragtime, some elemental jazzy things, some impromptu jug music, a little talking blues, Cajun; in short everything one needs to investigate the music of the folk before the arrival of serious technology changed the regional nature of folk and traditional music forever. Listen here for thoughtful renditions of these types of music and respect for the instrumentation of the times.
HOW CAN A POOR MAN STAND SUCH TIMES AND LIVE ?
Blind Alfred Reed - 1929
There once was a time when everything was cheap,
But now prices nearly puts a man to sleep.
When we pay our grocery bill,
We just feel like making our will --
I remember when dry goods were cheap as dirt,
We could take two bits and buy a dandy shirt.
Now we pay three bucks or more,
Maybe get a shirt that another man wore --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, I used to trade with a man by the name of Gray,
Flour was fifty cents for a twenty-four pound bag.
Now it's a dollar and a half beside,
Just like a-skinning off a flea for the hide --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Oh, the schools we have today ain't worth a cent,
But they see to it that every child is sent.
If we don't send everyday,
We have a heavy fine to pay --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Prohibition's good if 'tis conducted right,
There's no sense in shooting a man 'til he shows flight.
Officers kill without a cause,
They complain about funny laws --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Most all preachers preach for gold and not for souls,
That's what keeps a poor man always in a hole.
We can hardly get our breath,
Taxed and schooled and preached to death --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Oh, it's time for every man to be awake,
We pay fifty cents a pound when we ask for steak.
When we get our package home,
A little wad of paper with gristle and a bone --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, the doctor comes around with a face all bright,
And he says in a little while you'll be all right.
All he gives is a humbug pill,
A dose of dope and a great big bill --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
We've Got Franklin Delano Roosevelt Back Again Lyrics
WE'VE GOT FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT BACK AGAIN
Just hand me my old Martin for soon I will be startin'
Back to dear old Charleston far away
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected, we'll not be neglected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Back again, back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got legal wine, whiskey, beer and gin
I'll take a drink of brandy and let myself be handy
Good old times are coming back again
You can laugh and tell a joke, you can dance and drink and smoke
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We'll have money in our jeans
We can travel with the queen
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
No more breadlines, we're happy to say the donkey won election
day
No more standing in the blowing, snowing rain
He's got things in full swing, we're all working and getting our
pay
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
No Depression In Heaven
For fear the hearts of men are failing,
For these are latter days we know
The Great Depression now is spreading,
God's word declared it would be so
I'm going where there's no depression,
To the lovely land that's free from care
I'll leave this world of toil and trouble,
My home's in Heaven, I'm going there
In that bright land, there'll be no hunger,
No orphan children crying for bread,
No weeping widows, toil or struggle,
No shrouds, no coffins, and no death
This dark hour of midnight nearing
And tribulation time will come
The storms will hurl in midnight fear
And sweep lost millions to their doom
My Sweet Farm Girl - Clarence Ashley
Lyrics:
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
She knows I know how to keep her satisfied
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
Pull up the hose; I keep her lawn all wet
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
We eat our breakfast, then we ride on back to town
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I plow her land, and then I sow my seeds
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
She loves her daddy because I'm long and hard
Notes:
Recorded on December 1, 1931 in New York City. Ashley plays guitar and sings, with Gwen Foster on guitar and harmonica. The sexual connotations are rather obvious.
Battleship Of Maine - Lyrics & Chords
C
Mc Kinley called for volunteers,
Then I got my gun,
F
First Spaniard I saw coming
C
I dropped my gun and run,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
Chorus:
C
At war with that great nation Spain,
When I get back to Spain I want to honor my name,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
Why are you running,
Are you afraid to die,
The reason that I'm running
Is because I cannot fly,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
The blood was a-running
And I was running too,
I give my feet good exercise,
I had nothing else to do,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
When they were a-chasing me,
I fell down on my knees,
First thing I cast my eyes upon
Was a great big pot of peas,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
The peas they were greasy,
The meat it was fat,
The boys was fighting Spaniards
While I was fighting that,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.
*What Goes Around Comes Around- Mountain Music Version-Ginny Hawker and Tracy Swartz
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of the Carter Family performing Poor Orphan Child". This is not the version that is on the CD reviewed below but is a mountain song. I could find no Ginny Hawker/Tracy Swartz material on YouTube. Someone should rectify that.
CD Review
Draw Closer, Ginny Hawker &Tracy Schwarz, Rounder Records, 2004
Okay, let me clear up the mystery around the title of this entry. Recently I have been and reviewing and writing up entries about our common American roots music. Music like the various blues idioms, jazz, labor and work songs, the songs of the folk revival of the 1960s and the like. As part of that last stated project I, naturally, had to review the work of The New Lost City Ramblers who, in effect, were there to greet the young folkies as they came to New York’s Greenwich Village and Washington Square to make their marks. The original group included Tom Paley, John Cohen and the recently departed Mike Seeger (Pete’s half-brother if you are interested in folk bloodlines). As a result of that review someone I know who is very interested in this branch of the folk revival gave me a copy of this CD, “Draw Closer”. Why?
At some point in the early 1960s Tom Paley dropped away and one of the pair under review in this CD, Tracy Swartz, took his place. That, my friends, also should tell you something about the value of the tradition of old time mountain music that you will hear in this nice little CD put out by Rounder Records (another link in the folk bloodlines, right?). But enough, all you need to know is that this well-produced CD will display the vocal talents of Ginny Hawker as a traditional singer (not an easy thing to do today now that most of the great old women mountain music singers have passed from the scene…and have not been replaced, for the most part). And Tracy Swartz has the same concerns and cares about the preservation of traditional music that drove him into the New Lost City Ramblers lo those many years ago.
Finally, what do you need to hear here? All fourteen songs are fine but three really stick out (and will form the basis for the songbook that next generation of mountain music singers will use when they come looking for their roots), “Soldier’s Farewell”, “Poor Orphan Child” and “Salem’s Bright King”.
Katie Dear
"Oh Katie dear, go ask your mother
if you can be a bride of mine
If She says yes, then we'll get married
If she says no we'll run away "
"I cannot go and ask my mother
for she is on her bed of rest
and by her side is a silver dagger
to kill the one I love the best"
"Oh Katie dear, go ask your father
if you can be a bride of mine
If he says yes, then we'll get married
If he says no we'll run away"
"I cannot go and ask my father
for he is on her bed of rest
and by his side is a silver dagger
to kill the one I love the best"
So he picked up that silver dagger
and plunged it through his manly chest
Saying "Goodbye Katie, goodbye darling,
I''ll die for the one I love the best"
She picked up that silver dagger
and plunged it through her lily breast
Saying "Goodbye Mama, goodbye Papa,
I''ll die for the one I love the best"
"Poor Orphan Child" The Carter Family
I hear a low faint voice of death call full and mamma's dead
And it comes from the poor orphan child that must be clothed and fed
And it calls from the poor orphan child that must be clothed and fed
And it calls from the poor orphan child that must be clothed and fed
Savior lead them by the hand (Gently lead them by the hand)
Savior lead them by the hand (Gently lead them by the hand)
Savior lead them by the hand
Till they all reach that glittering strand
They call from mended children mouths (?) poor little boys and girls
Who once had loved their loving hands to smooth their golden curls
Who wanted mothers loving hands to smooth their golden curls
Who wanted mothers loving hands to smooth their golden curls
But now we see those wandering curls hang gallop round their brow
They say to us my pappa's dead and I've no mother now
They say to us my pappa's dead and I've no mother now
They say to us my pappa's dead and I've no mother now
Oh savior every orphan breath wherever they may roam
Bless every hand that leaves them aid and bless the orphan home
Bless every hand that leaves them aid and bless the orphan home
Bless every hand that leaves them aid and bless the orphan home
CD Review
Draw Closer, Ginny Hawker &Tracy Schwarz, Rounder Records, 2004
Okay, let me clear up the mystery around the title of this entry. Recently I have been and reviewing and writing up entries about our common American roots music. Music like the various blues idioms, jazz, labor and work songs, the songs of the folk revival of the 1960s and the like. As part of that last stated project I, naturally, had to review the work of The New Lost City Ramblers who, in effect, were there to greet the young folkies as they came to New York’s Greenwich Village and Washington Square to make their marks. The original group included Tom Paley, John Cohen and the recently departed Mike Seeger (Pete’s half-brother if you are interested in folk bloodlines). As a result of that review someone I know who is very interested in this branch of the folk revival gave me a copy of this CD, “Draw Closer”. Why?
At some point in the early 1960s Tom Paley dropped away and one of the pair under review in this CD, Tracy Swartz, took his place. That, my friends, also should tell you something about the value of the tradition of old time mountain music that you will hear in this nice little CD put out by Rounder Records (another link in the folk bloodlines, right?). But enough, all you need to know is that this well-produced CD will display the vocal talents of Ginny Hawker as a traditional singer (not an easy thing to do today now that most of the great old women mountain music singers have passed from the scene…and have not been replaced, for the most part). And Tracy Swartz has the same concerns and cares about the preservation of traditional music that drove him into the New Lost City Ramblers lo those many years ago.
Finally, what do you need to hear here? All fourteen songs are fine but three really stick out (and will form the basis for the songbook that next generation of mountain music singers will use when they come looking for their roots), “Soldier’s Farewell”, “Poor Orphan Child” and “Salem’s Bright King”.
Katie Dear
"Oh Katie dear, go ask your mother
if you can be a bride of mine
If She says yes, then we'll get married
If she says no we'll run away "
"I cannot go and ask my mother
for she is on her bed of rest
and by her side is a silver dagger
to kill the one I love the best"
"Oh Katie dear, go ask your father
if you can be a bride of mine
If he says yes, then we'll get married
If he says no we'll run away"
"I cannot go and ask my father
for he is on her bed of rest
and by his side is a silver dagger
to kill the one I love the best"
So he picked up that silver dagger
and plunged it through his manly chest
Saying "Goodbye Katie, goodbye darling,
I''ll die for the one I love the best"
She picked up that silver dagger
and plunged it through her lily breast
Saying "Goodbye Mama, goodbye Papa,
I''ll die for the one I love the best"
"Poor Orphan Child" The Carter Family
I hear a low faint voice of death call full and mamma's dead
And it comes from the poor orphan child that must be clothed and fed
And it calls from the poor orphan child that must be clothed and fed
And it calls from the poor orphan child that must be clothed and fed
Savior lead them by the hand (Gently lead them by the hand)
Savior lead them by the hand (Gently lead them by the hand)
Savior lead them by the hand
Till they all reach that glittering strand
They call from mended children mouths (?) poor little boys and girls
Who once had loved their loving hands to smooth their golden curls
Who wanted mothers loving hands to smooth their golden curls
Who wanted mothers loving hands to smooth their golden curls
But now we see those wandering curls hang gallop round their brow
They say to us my pappa's dead and I've no mother now
They say to us my pappa's dead and I've no mother now
They say to us my pappa's dead and I've no mother now
Oh savior every orphan breath wherever they may roam
Bless every hand that leaves them aid and bless the orphan home
Bless every hand that leaves them aid and bless the orphan home
Bless every hand that leaves them aid and bless the orphan home
*They'll Be Coming Around The Mountain-Again- The Music Of Appalachia
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The Soggy Mountain Boys Doing "Man Of Constant Sorrow".
CD REVIEW
Man Of Constant Sorrow and Other Timeless Ballads, various artists, Yazoo, 2002
Recently I was listening to a local talk show here in Boston in which the subject was which way at least part of the American music scene was headed. One of the premises of the show was that roots music, you know, the blues, jazz, and the mountain music presented here in this album was once again going to form the new “in " music. Fair enough. These genres have been mined before for their expressions of Americana and they can be mined in the future for that same purpose. But here is the question that I have that underlies that above-mentioned radio show premise. What is it about “roots” music, and here I want to concentrate on mountain music, that reaches out to many generations, social classes and tastes far removed from those craggy coal-laden hills of Appalachia and other isolated regions of the country?
Well one reason for this reviewer, as least, is that confirmed urbanite that he is a little scratch at his “roots” reveals a father who grew up in the coal mining regions of Kentucky and whose extended family mined the coal back into some mists of memory. Scratch your family tree, especially if your family has been here a few generations and you might find some mountain there too. But enough of that as a reason. How about simple lyrics that talk of hard lives, longing, love, death, hard death, tragic death, death by many means not as a strange outside thing but as very personally expressed ways of understanding the world in the land of the hollows and creeks. Add to that the obligatory fiddle, maybe a mandolin, or other handmade musical instrument of choice and you have an idea, or the beginning of an idea, of the appeal of this music today. Hell, some of it in the end is just music to be social on those long lonesome Saturday nights after a hard week of work and (in the beginning) before radio took center stage. We leave off the dissertation with that said.
As always the question on any compilation, especially as here we are dealing with very old tracks from some very old records produced in the 1920’s and 1930’s, is what is worth listening to. Well, my number one choice here is the two-part “The Island Unknown” by Eck Robertson and Family that closes out this CD. Jesus, even to this hardened city boy this is hauntingly beautiful. How about Buell Kazee on “John Hardy”. It has been done a million times but listen to this version of the story, it is a little different. And of course the also well-covered title song “Man Of Constant Sorrow”. This is good stuff. By the way, when your friends come and try to high hat you with their knowledge of the “in” music just run this little CD at them.
Willie Moore
Willie Moore was a king, his age twenty-one,
He courted a damsel fair;
O, her eyes was as bright as the diamonds every night,
And wavy black was her hair.
He courted her both night and day,
'Til to marry they did agree;
But when he came to get her parents consent,
They said it could never be.
She threw herself in Willie Moore's arms,
As oftime had done before;
But little did he think when they parted that night,
Sweet Anna he would see no more.
It was about the tenth of May,
The time I remember well;
That very same night, her body disappeared
In a way no tongue could tell.
Sweet Annie was loved both far and near,
Had friends most all around;
And in a little brook before the cottage door,
The body of sweet Anna was found.
She was taken by her weeping friends,
And carried to her parent's room,
And there she was dressed in a gown of snowy white,
And laid her in a lonely tomb.
Her parents now are left all alone,
One mourns while the other one weeps;
And in a grassy mound before the cottage door,
The body of sweet Anna still sleeps.
[Willie Moore never spoke that anyone heard,
And at length from his friends did part,
And the last heard from him, he'd gone to Montreal,
Where he died of a broken heart.]
This song was composed in the flowery West
By a man you may never have seen;
O, I'll tell you his name, but it is not in full,
His initials are J.R.D.4
A Man Of Constant Sorrow: Soggy Bottom Boys.
(In constant sorrow through his days.)
I am a man of constant sorrow,
I've seen trouble all my day.
I bid farewell to old Kentucky,
The place where I was born and raised.
(The place where he was born and raised )
For six long years I've been in trouble,
No pleasures here on earth I found.
For in this world I'm bound to ramble,
I have no friends to help me now.
(He has no friends to help him now.)
It's fare thee well my old lover.
I never expect to see you again.
For I'm bound to ride that northern railroad,
Perhaps I'll die upon this train.
(Perhaps he'll die upon this train.)
You can bury me in some deep valley,
For many years where I may lay.
Then you may learn to love another,
While I am sleeping in my grave.
(While he is sleeping in his grave.)
Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger
My face, you'll never see no more.
But there is one promise that is given
I'll meet you on God's golden shore.
(He'll meet you on God's golden shore.)
LYRICS AS REPRINTED IN ALAN LOMAX, FOLK SONGS OF NORTH AMERICA, GARDEN CITY, 1960, pp. 271-273:
John Hardy was a brave little man,
He carried two guns ev'ry day.
Killed him a man in the West Virginia land,
Oughta seen poor Johnny gettin' away, Lord, Lord,
Oughta seen poor Johnny gettin' away.
John Hardy was standin' at the barroom door,
He didn't have a hand in the game,
Up stepped his woman and threw down fifty cents,
Says, "Deal my man in the game, Lord, Lord...."
John Hardy lost that fifty cents,
It was all he had in the game,
He drew the forty-four that he carried by his side
Blowed out that poor Negro's brains, Lord, Lord....
John Hardy had ten miles to go,
And half of that he run,
He run till he come to the broad river bank,
He fell to his breast and he swum, Lord, Lord....
He swum till he came to his mother's house,
"My boy, what have you done?"
"I've killed a man in the West Virginia Land,
And I know that I have to be hung, Lord, Lord...."
He asked his mother for a fifty-cent piece,
"My son, I have no change."
"Then hand me down my old forty-four
And I'll blow out my agurvatin' [sic] brains, Lord, Lord...."
John Hardy was lyin' on the broad river bank,
As drunk as a man could be;
Up stepped the police and took him by the hand,
Sayin' "Johnny, come and go with me, Lord, Lord...."
John Hardy had a pretty little girl,
The dress she wore was blue.
She come a-skippin' through the old jail hall
Sayin', "Poppy, I'll be true to you, Lord, Lord...."
John Hardy had another little girl,
The dress that she wore was red,
She came a-skippin' through the old jail hall
Sayin' "Poppy, I'd rather be dead, Lord, Lord...."
They took John Hardy to the hangin' ground,
They hung him there to die.
The very last words that poor boy said,
"My forty gun never told a lie, Lord, Lord...."
JOHN HENRY
Some say he's from Georgia,
Some say he's from Alabam,
But it's wrote on the rock at the Big Ben Tunnel,
That he's an East Virginia Man,
That he's an East Virginia man.
John Henry was a steel drivin' man,
He died with a hammah in his han',
Oh, come along boys and line the track
For John Henry ain't never comin' back,
For John Henry ain't never comin' back.
John Henry he could hammah,
He could whistle, he could sing,
He went to the mountain early in the mornin'
To hear his hammah ring,
To hear his hammah ring.
John Henry went to the section boss,
Says the section boss what kin you do?
Says I can line a track, I kin histe a jack,
I kin pick and shovel too,
I kin pick and shovel too.
John Henry told the cap'n,
When you go to town,
Buy me a nine pound hammah
An' I'll drive this steel drill down,
An' I'll drive this steel drill down.
Cap'n said to John Henry,
You've got a willin' mind.
But you just well lay yoh hammah down,
You'll nevah beat this drill of mine,
You'll nevah beat this drill of mine.
John Henry went to the tunnel
And they put him in lead to drive,
The rock was so tall and John Henry so small
That he laid down his hammah and he cried,
That he laid down his hammah and he cried.
The steam drill was on the right han' side,
John Henry was on the left,
Says before I let this steam drill beat me down,
I'll hammah myself to death,
I'll hammah myself to death.
Oh the cap'n said to John Henry,
I bleeve this mountain's sinkin' in.
John Henry said to the cap'n, Oh my!
Tain't nothin' but my hammah suckin' wind,
Tain't nothin' but my hammah suckin' wind.
John Henry had a cute liddle wife,
And her name was Julie Ann,
And she walk down the track and nevah look back,
Goin' to see her brave steel drivin' man,
Goin' to see her brave steel drivin' man.
John Henry had a pretty liddle wife,
She come all dressed in blue.
And the last words she said to him,
John Henry I been true to you,
John Henry I been true to you.
John Henry was on the mountain,
The mountain was so high,
He called to his pretty liddle wife,
Said Ah kin almos' touch the sky,
Said Ah kin almos' touch the sky.
Who gonna shoe yoh pretty liddle feet,
Who gonna glove yoh han',
Who gonna kiss yoh rosy cheeks,
An' who gonna be yoh man,
An' who gonna be yoh man?
Papa gonna shoe my pretty liddle feet,
Mama gonna glove my han',
Sistah gonna kiss my rosy cheeks,
An' I ain't gonna have no man,
An' I ain't gonna have no man.
Then John Henry told huh,
Don't you weep an' moan,
I got ten thousand dollars in the First National Bank,
I saved it to buy you a home,
I saved it to buy you a home.
John Henry took his liddle boy,
Sit him on his knee,
Said that Big Ben Tunnel
Gonna be the death of me,
Gonna be the death of me.
John Henry took that liddle boy,
Helt him in the pahm of his han',
And the last words he said to that chile was,
I want you to be a steel drivin' man,
I want you to be a steel drivin' man.
John Henry ast that liddle boy,
Now what are you gonna be?
Says if I live and nothin' happen,
A steel drivin' man I'll be,
A steel drivin' man I'll be.
Then John Henry he did hammah,
He did make his hammah soun',
Says now one more lick fore quittin' time,
An' I'll beat this steam drill down,
An' I'll beat this steam drill down.
The hammah that John Henry swung,
It weighed over nine poun',
He broke a rib in his left han' side,
And his intrels fell on the groun',
And his intrels fell on the groun'.
All the women in the West
That heard of John Henry's death,
Stood in the rain, flagged the east bound train,
Goin' where John Henry dropped dead,
Goin' where John Henry dropped dead.
John Henry's liddle mother
Was all dressed in red,
She jumped in bed, covered up her head,
Said I didn't know my boy was dead,
Said I didn't know my boy was dead.
They took John Henry to the White House,
And buried him in the san',
And every locomotive come roarin' by,
Says there lays that steel drivin' man,
Says there lays that steel drivin' man.
The Roots Of Urban Folk
*They'll Be Coming Around The Mountain-Again- The Music Of Appalachia
CD REVIEW
Man Of Constant Sorrow and Other Timeless Ballads, various artists, Yazoo, 2002
Recently I was listening to a local talk show here in Boston in which the subject was which way at least part of the American music scene was headed. One of the premises of the show was that roots music, you know, the blues, jazz, and the mountain music presented here in this album was once again going to form the new “in " music. Fair enough. These genres have been mined before for their expressions of Americana and they can be mined in the future for that same purpose. But here is the question that I have that underlies that above-mentioned radio show premise. What is it about “roots” music, and here I want to concentrate on mountain music, that reaches out to many generations, social classes and tastes far removed from those craggy coal-laden hills of Appalachia and other isolated regions of the country?
Well one reason for this reviewer, as least, is that confirmed urbanite that he is a little scratch at his “roots” reveals a father who grew up in the coal mining regions of Kentucky and whose extended family mined the coal back into some mists of memory. Scratch your family tree, especially if your family has been here a few generations and you might find some mountain there too. But enough of that as a reason. How about simple lyrics that talk of hard lives, longing, love, death, hard death, tragic death, death by many means not as a strange outside thing but as very personally expressed ways of understanding the world in the land of the hollows and creeks. Add to that the obligatory fiddle, maybe a mandolin, or other handmade musical instrument of choice and you have an idea, or the beginning of an idea, of the appeal of this music today. Hell, some of it in the end is just music to be social on those long lonesome Saturday nights after a hard week of work and (in the beginning) before radio took center stage. We leave off the dissertation with that said.
As always the question on any compilation, especially as here we are dealing with very old tracks from some very old records produced in the 1920’s and 1930’s, is what is worth listening to. Well, my number one choice here is the two-part “The Island Unknown” by Eck Robertson and Family that closes out this CD. Jesus, even to this hardened city boy this is hauntingly beautiful. How about Buell Kazee on “John Hardy”. It has been done a million times but listen to this version of the story, it is a little different. And of course the also well-covered title song “Man Of Constant Sorrow”. This is good stuff. By the way, when your friends come and try to high hat you with their knowledge of the “in” music just run this little CD at them.
Willie Moore
Willie Moore was a king, his age twenty-one,
He courted a damsel fair;
O, her eyes was as bright as the diamonds every night,
And wavy black was her hair.
He courted her both night and day,
'Til to marry they did agree;
But when he came to get her parents consent,
They said it could never be.
She threw herself in Willie Moore's arms,
As oftime had done before;
But little did he think when they parted that night,
Sweet Anna he would see no more.
It was about the tenth of May,
The time I remember well;
That very same night, her body disappeared
In a way no tongue could tell.
Sweet Annie was loved both far and near,
Had friends most all around;
And in a little brook before the cottage door,
The body of sweet Anna was found.
She was taken by her weeping friends,
And carried to her parent's room,
And there she was dressed in a gown of snowy white,
And laid her in a lonely tomb.
Her parents now are left all alone,
One mourns while the other one weeps;
And in a grassy mound before the cottage door,
The body of sweet Anna still sleeps.
[Willie Moore never spoke that anyone heard,
And at length from his friends did part,
And the last heard from him, he'd gone to Montreal,
Where he died of a broken heart.]
This song was composed in the flowery West
By a man you may never have seen;
O, I'll tell you his name, but it is not in full,
His initials are J.R.D.4
A Man Of Constant Sorrow: Soggy Bottom Boys.
(In constant sorrow through his days.)
I am a man of constant sorrow,
I've seen trouble all my day.
I bid farewell to old Kentucky,
The place where I was born and raised.
(The place where he was born and raised )
For six long years I've been in trouble,
No pleasures here on earth I found.
For in this world I'm bound to ramble,
I have no friends to help me now.
(He has no friends to help him now.)
It's fare thee well my old lover.
I never expect to see you again.
For I'm bound to ride that northern railroad,
Perhaps I'll die upon this train.
(Perhaps he'll die upon this train.)
You can bury me in some deep valley,
For many years where I may lay.
Then you may learn to love another,
While I am sleeping in my grave.
(While he is sleeping in his grave.)
Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger
My face, you'll never see no more.
But there is one promise that is given
I'll meet you on God's golden shore.
(He'll meet you on God's golden shore.)
LYRICS AS REPRINTED IN ALAN LOMAX, FOLK SONGS OF NORTH AMERICA, GARDEN CITY, 1960, pp. 271-273:
John Hardy was a brave little man,
He carried two guns ev'ry day.
Killed him a man in the West Virginia land,
Oughta seen poor Johnny gettin' away, Lord, Lord,
Oughta seen poor Johnny gettin' away.
John Hardy was standin' at the barroom door,
He didn't have a hand in the game,
Up stepped his woman and threw down fifty cents,
Says, "Deal my man in the game, Lord, Lord...."
John Hardy lost that fifty cents,
It was all he had in the game,
He drew the forty-four that he carried by his side
Blowed out that poor Negro's brains, Lord, Lord....
John Hardy had ten miles to go,
And half of that he run,
He run till he come to the broad river bank,
He fell to his breast and he swum, Lord, Lord....
He swum till he came to his mother's house,
"My boy, what have you done?"
"I've killed a man in the West Virginia Land,
And I know that I have to be hung, Lord, Lord...."
He asked his mother for a fifty-cent piece,
"My son, I have no change."
"Then hand me down my old forty-four
And I'll blow out my agurvatin' [sic] brains, Lord, Lord...."
John Hardy was lyin' on the broad river bank,
As drunk as a man could be;
Up stepped the police and took him by the hand,
Sayin' "Johnny, come and go with me, Lord, Lord...."
John Hardy had a pretty little girl,
The dress she wore was blue.
She come a-skippin' through the old jail hall
Sayin', "Poppy, I'll be true to you, Lord, Lord...."
John Hardy had another little girl,
The dress that she wore was red,
She came a-skippin' through the old jail hall
Sayin' "Poppy, I'd rather be dead, Lord, Lord...."
They took John Hardy to the hangin' ground,
They hung him there to die.
The very last words that poor boy said,
"My forty gun never told a lie, Lord, Lord...."
JOHN HENRY
Some say he's from Georgia,
Some say he's from Alabam,
But it's wrote on the rock at the Big Ben Tunnel,
That he's an East Virginia Man,
That he's an East Virginia man.
John Henry was a steel drivin' man,
He died with a hammah in his han',
Oh, come along boys and line the track
For John Henry ain't never comin' back,
For John Henry ain't never comin' back.
John Henry he could hammah,
He could whistle, he could sing,
He went to the mountain early in the mornin'
To hear his hammah ring,
To hear his hammah ring.
John Henry went to the section boss,
Says the section boss what kin you do?
Says I can line a track, I kin histe a jack,
I kin pick and shovel too,
I kin pick and shovel too.
John Henry told the cap'n,
When you go to town,
Buy me a nine pound hammah
An' I'll drive this steel drill down,
An' I'll drive this steel drill down.
Cap'n said to John Henry,
You've got a willin' mind.
But you just well lay yoh hammah down,
You'll nevah beat this drill of mine,
You'll nevah beat this drill of mine.
John Henry went to the tunnel
And they put him in lead to drive,
The rock was so tall and John Henry so small
That he laid down his hammah and he cried,
That he laid down his hammah and he cried.
The steam drill was on the right han' side,
John Henry was on the left,
Says before I let this steam drill beat me down,
I'll hammah myself to death,
I'll hammah myself to death.
Oh the cap'n said to John Henry,
I bleeve this mountain's sinkin' in.
John Henry said to the cap'n, Oh my!
Tain't nothin' but my hammah suckin' wind,
Tain't nothin' but my hammah suckin' wind.
John Henry had a cute liddle wife,
And her name was Julie Ann,
And she walk down the track and nevah look back,
Goin' to see her brave steel drivin' man,
Goin' to see her brave steel drivin' man.
John Henry had a pretty liddle wife,
She come all dressed in blue.
And the last words she said to him,
John Henry I been true to you,
John Henry I been true to you.
John Henry was on the mountain,
The mountain was so high,
He called to his pretty liddle wife,
Said Ah kin almos' touch the sky,
Said Ah kin almos' touch the sky.
Who gonna shoe yoh pretty liddle feet,
Who gonna glove yoh han',
Who gonna kiss yoh rosy cheeks,
An' who gonna be yoh man,
An' who gonna be yoh man?
Papa gonna shoe my pretty liddle feet,
Mama gonna glove my han',
Sistah gonna kiss my rosy cheeks,
An' I ain't gonna have no man,
An' I ain't gonna have no man.
Then John Henry told huh,
Don't you weep an' moan,
I got ten thousand dollars in the First National Bank,
I saved it to buy you a home,
I saved it to buy you a home.
John Henry took his liddle boy,
Sit him on his knee,
Said that Big Ben Tunnel
Gonna be the death of me,
Gonna be the death of me.
John Henry took that liddle boy,
Helt him in the pahm of his han',
And the last words he said to that chile was,
I want you to be a steel drivin' man,
I want you to be a steel drivin' man.
John Henry ast that liddle boy,
Now what are you gonna be?
Says if I live and nothin' happen,
A steel drivin' man I'll be,
A steel drivin' man I'll be.
Then John Henry he did hammah,
He did make his hammah soun',
Says now one more lick fore quittin' time,
An' I'll beat this steam drill down,
An' I'll beat this steam drill down.
The hammah that John Henry swung,
It weighed over nine poun',
He broke a rib in his left han' side,
And his intrels fell on the groun',
And his intrels fell on the groun'.
All the women in the West
That heard of John Henry's death,
Stood in the rain, flagged the east bound train,
Goin' where John Henry dropped dead,
Goin' where John Henry dropped dead.
John Henry's liddle mother
Was all dressed in red,
She jumped in bed, covered up her head,
Said I didn't know my boy was dead,
Said I didn't know my boy was dead.
They took John Henry to the White House,
And buried him in the san',
And every locomotive come roarin' by,
Says there lays that steel drivin' man,
Says there lays that steel drivin' man.
The Roots Of Urban Folk
*They'll Be Coming Around The Mountain-Again- The Music Of Appalachia
*Continuing The Bluegrass Tradition- A Documentary
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of the bluegrass group Nickel Creek in the film documentary "Bluegrass Journey"
DVD Review
Bluegrass Journey: A Documentary, various artists, 2004
If someone was to ask me quickly of f the top of my head to name a bluegrass group I would probably jump on the name Bill Monroe and his various bands. After that it would be the figures from the 1960s folk revival like The New Lost City Ramblers and the Greenbriar Boys. They while not , for the most part, raised in the country and thus bred to this type of music saw it as an important form of roots music and did as much as anyone to publicize it to urban audiences back then . I think, however, that most people who are not aficionados would have stopped at Bill Monroe. This film documentary, while paying due tribute to the pioneer efforts of Monroe and his combing of various genres to form what has since come to be called bluegrass, concentrates on the apparently thriving modern “real” (meaning people from the country are playing it) bluegrass music movement. So of you are trying to orient yourself to bluegrass music, what is currently good (and not good) this is not a bad place to start. Moreover, the bluegrass festival (rain and all) that forms the centerpiece for this exploration of the music features some very proficient guitar, fiddle, and above all mandolin players. You will feel right at home, especially with Tony Rice on "Shenandoah" and the Nickel Creek band (with a great fiddle player)on several tunes.
Man Of Constant Sorrow
Im a man of constant sorrow,
Ive seen trouble all my days.
Ill say goodbye to colorado
Where I was born and partly raised.
Your mother says Im a stranger;
My face youll never see no more.
But theres one promise, darling,
Ill see you on gods golden shore.
Through this open world Im a-bound to ramble,
Through ice and snows, sleet and rain,
Im a-bound to ride that mornin railroad,
Perhaps Ill die on that train.
Im going back to colorado,
The place that Ive started from.
If Id knowed how bad youd treat me,
Honey I never would have come.
DVD Review
Bluegrass Journey: A Documentary, various artists, 2004
If someone was to ask me quickly of f the top of my head to name a bluegrass group I would probably jump on the name Bill Monroe and his various bands. After that it would be the figures from the 1960s folk revival like The New Lost City Ramblers and the Greenbriar Boys. They while not , for the most part, raised in the country and thus bred to this type of music saw it as an important form of roots music and did as much as anyone to publicize it to urban audiences back then . I think, however, that most people who are not aficionados would have stopped at Bill Monroe. This film documentary, while paying due tribute to the pioneer efforts of Monroe and his combing of various genres to form what has since come to be called bluegrass, concentrates on the apparently thriving modern “real” (meaning people from the country are playing it) bluegrass music movement. So of you are trying to orient yourself to bluegrass music, what is currently good (and not good) this is not a bad place to start. Moreover, the bluegrass festival (rain and all) that forms the centerpiece for this exploration of the music features some very proficient guitar, fiddle, and above all mandolin players. You will feel right at home, especially with Tony Rice on "Shenandoah" and the Nickel Creek band (with a great fiddle player)on several tunes.
Man Of Constant Sorrow
Im a man of constant sorrow,
Ive seen trouble all my days.
Ill say goodbye to colorado
Where I was born and partly raised.
Your mother says Im a stranger;
My face youll never see no more.
But theres one promise, darling,
Ill see you on gods golden shore.
Through this open world Im a-bound to ramble,
Through ice and snows, sleet and rain,
Im a-bound to ride that mornin railroad,
Perhaps Ill die on that train.
Im going back to colorado,
The place that Ive started from.
If Id knowed how bad youd treat me,
Honey I never would have come.
***Enough of Mountain Music, Already –Almost
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Kilby Snow performing "May I Sleep In Your Barn Tonight, Mister?"
DVD Review
Traditional Music Classics, Doc Watson, Roscoe Holcomb, Buell Ezell and Kilby Snow with Mike Seeger, Yazoo productions, 2002
The music of the mountains, in this case the mountains of Appalachia, down in coal country in eastern Kentucky, as I have seemingly endlessly noted in the recent past, is the music of my father and his forbears, although I am a city boy and came to an appreciation of that music by a very circuitous route. But it must be in the genes, right? Well, genetic disposition or not when I view the first parts of this “Traditional Music Classics DVD even I was ready to disown my heritage. Why?
Well, partly it was due to the weak performances of the first performer, Doc Watson (and ensemble). While I can take old Doc in small doses he does not generally speak to me. He certainly did not here. Then there was the problem with mountain banjo player extraordinaire Roscoe Holcomb. His previously viewed performances in other venues were the reason I wanted to see him on this one. Maybe, it is a matter of overexposure but old Roscoe’s performance here seemed weak and tinny (unless his performance on the 1960s Pete Seeger television show “Rainbow Quest” where he wowed me). And then...
And then, indeed. Up comes Kilby Snow, a performer who I had heard of previously but whose music I had not heard, with his very own Montgomery Ward-purchased autoharp (with some personally done refinements), aided and abetted by the late Mike Seeger of the New Lost City Ramblers (and Pete Seeger’s half-brother), and blew me away. Mike hardly needed to coax Brother Snow to strut his stuff but remember that point I made above about the genetic connection. Old Kilby and his autoharp-driven songs called me back to the hills of home. This is why you want to view this one.
Lyrics To "Streets Of Laredo" as performed by Doc Watson on this DVD (there are many other versions, as noted below)
As I walked out in the streets of Laredo
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a young cowboy, all wrapped in white linen
Wrapped up in white linen and cold as the clay.
"I see by your outfit, that you are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I slowly walked by.
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story,
For I'm shot in the breast, and I'm dying today."
"'Twas once in the saddle I used to go dashing,
'Twas once in the saddle I used to go gay.
First to the dram-house, and then to the card-house,
Got shot in the breast, and I'm dying today."
"Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly,
And play the dead march as you carry me along;
Take me to the valley, and lay the sod o'er me,
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."
"Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin,
Get six pretty maidens to bear up my pall.
Put bunches of roses all over my coffin,
Roses to deaden the sods as they fall."
"Then swing your rope slowly and rattle your spurs lowly,
And give a wild whoop as you carry me along;
And in the grave throw me and roll the sod o'er me.
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."
"Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water.
To cool my parched lips", the cowboy then said.
Before I returned, his soul had departed,
And gone to the round up - the cowboy was dead.
We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly,
And bitterly wept as we bore him along.
For we loved our comrade, so brave, young and handsome,
We all loved our comrade, although he'd done wrong.
[edit] Origin
The song is widely considered a traditional ballad, and the origins are not entirely clear. It seems to be primarily descended from an Irish/British folk song of the late 18th century called "The Unfortunate Rake", which has also evolved (with a time signature change and completely different melody) into the New Orleans standard "St. James Infirmary Blues". The Bodleian Library, Oxford, has a copy of a nineteenth-century broadside entitled "The Unfortunate Lad", which is a version of the British ballad.[1] Some elements of this song closely parallel those in the "Streets of Laredo":
Get six jolly fellows to carry my coffin,
And six pretty maidens to bear up my pall,
And give to each of them bunches of roses,
That they may not smell me as they go along.
Muffle your drums, play your pipes merrily,
Play the death march as you go along.
And fire your guns right over my coffin,
There goes an unfortunate lad to his home.
However, the cause of the Unfortunate Lad's demise is not a bullet wound but a sexually transmitted disease, as is clear from the verse:
Had she but told me when she disordered me,
Had she but told me of it at the time,
I might have got salts and pills of white mercury,
But now I'm cut down in the height of my prime.
DVD Review
Traditional Music Classics, Doc Watson, Roscoe Holcomb, Buell Ezell and Kilby Snow with Mike Seeger, Yazoo productions, 2002
The music of the mountains, in this case the mountains of Appalachia, down in coal country in eastern Kentucky, as I have seemingly endlessly noted in the recent past, is the music of my father and his forbears, although I am a city boy and came to an appreciation of that music by a very circuitous route. But it must be in the genes, right? Well, genetic disposition or not when I view the first parts of this “Traditional Music Classics DVD even I was ready to disown my heritage. Why?
Well, partly it was due to the weak performances of the first performer, Doc Watson (and ensemble). While I can take old Doc in small doses he does not generally speak to me. He certainly did not here. Then there was the problem with mountain banjo player extraordinaire Roscoe Holcomb. His previously viewed performances in other venues were the reason I wanted to see him on this one. Maybe, it is a matter of overexposure but old Roscoe’s performance here seemed weak and tinny (unless his performance on the 1960s Pete Seeger television show “Rainbow Quest” where he wowed me). And then...
And then, indeed. Up comes Kilby Snow, a performer who I had heard of previously but whose music I had not heard, with his very own Montgomery Ward-purchased autoharp (with some personally done refinements), aided and abetted by the late Mike Seeger of the New Lost City Ramblers (and Pete Seeger’s half-brother), and blew me away. Mike hardly needed to coax Brother Snow to strut his stuff but remember that point I made above about the genetic connection. Old Kilby and his autoharp-driven songs called me back to the hills of home. This is why you want to view this one.
Lyrics To "Streets Of Laredo" as performed by Doc Watson on this DVD (there are many other versions, as noted below)
As I walked out in the streets of Laredo
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a young cowboy, all wrapped in white linen
Wrapped up in white linen and cold as the clay.
"I see by your outfit, that you are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I slowly walked by.
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story,
For I'm shot in the breast, and I'm dying today."
"'Twas once in the saddle I used to go dashing,
'Twas once in the saddle I used to go gay.
First to the dram-house, and then to the card-house,
Got shot in the breast, and I'm dying today."
"Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly,
And play the dead march as you carry me along;
Take me to the valley, and lay the sod o'er me,
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."
"Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin,
Get six pretty maidens to bear up my pall.
Put bunches of roses all over my coffin,
Roses to deaden the sods as they fall."
"Then swing your rope slowly and rattle your spurs lowly,
And give a wild whoop as you carry me along;
And in the grave throw me and roll the sod o'er me.
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."
"Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water.
To cool my parched lips", the cowboy then said.
Before I returned, his soul had departed,
And gone to the round up - the cowboy was dead.
We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly,
And bitterly wept as we bore him along.
For we loved our comrade, so brave, young and handsome,
We all loved our comrade, although he'd done wrong.
[edit] Origin
The song is widely considered a traditional ballad, and the origins are not entirely clear. It seems to be primarily descended from an Irish/British folk song of the late 18th century called "The Unfortunate Rake", which has also evolved (with a time signature change and completely different melody) into the New Orleans standard "St. James Infirmary Blues". The Bodleian Library, Oxford, has a copy of a nineteenth-century broadside entitled "The Unfortunate Lad", which is a version of the British ballad.[1] Some elements of this song closely parallel those in the "Streets of Laredo":
Get six jolly fellows to carry my coffin,
And six pretty maidens to bear up my pall,
And give to each of them bunches of roses,
That they may not smell me as they go along.
Muffle your drums, play your pipes merrily,
Play the death march as you go along.
And fire your guns right over my coffin,
There goes an unfortunate lad to his home.
However, the cause of the Unfortunate Lad's demise is not a bullet wound but a sexually transmitted disease, as is clear from the verse:
Had she but told me when she disordered me,
Had she but told me of it at the time,
I might have got salts and pills of white mercury,
But now I'm cut down in the height of my prime.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
*With Unemployment Rising- The Call "30 For 40"- Now More Than Ever- The Transitional Socialist Program
Click On Title To Link To The Full Transitional Program Of The Fourth International Adopted In 1938 As A Fighting Program In The Struggle For Socialism In That Era. Many Of The Points, Including The Headline Point Of 30 Hours Work For 40 Hours Pay To Spread The Work Around Among All Workers, Is As Valid Today As Then.
Guest Commentary
From The Transitional Program Of The Fourth International In 1938
Sliding Scale of Wages
and Sliding Scale of Hours
Under the conditions of disintegrating capitalism, the masses continue to live the meagerized life of the oppressed, threatened now more than at any other time with the danger of being cast into the pit of pauperism. They must defend their mouthful of bread, if they cannot increase or better it. There is neither the need nor the opportunity to enumerate here those separate, partial demands which time and again arise on the basis of concrete circumstances – national, local, trade union. But two basic economic afflictions, in which is summarized the increasing absurdity of the capitalist system, that is, unemployment and high prices, demand generalized slogans and methods of struggle.
The Fourth International declares uncompromising war on the politics of the capitalists which, to a considerable degree, like the politics of their agents, the reformists, aims to place the whole burden of militarism, the crisis, the disorganization of the monetary system and all other scourges stemming from capitalism’s death agony upon the backs of the toilers. The Fourth International demands employment and decent living conditions for all.
Neither monetary inflation nor stabilization can serve as slogans for the proletariat because these are but two ends of the same stick. Against a bounding rise in prices, which with the approach of war will assume an ever more unbridled character, one can fight only under the slogan of a sliding scale of wages. This means that collective agreements should assure an automatic rise in wages in relation to the increase in price of consumer goods.
Under the menace of its own disintegration, the proletariat cannot permit the transformation of an increasing section of the workers into chronically unemployed paupers, living off the slops of a crumbling society. The right to employment is the only serious right left to the worker in a society based upon exploitation. This right today is left to the worker in a society based upon exploitation. This right today is being shorn from him at every step. Against unemployment, “structural” as well as “conjunctural,” the time is ripe to advance along with the slogan of public works, the slogan of a sliding scale of working hours. Trade unions and other mass organizations should bind the workers and the unemployed together in the solidarity of mutual responsibility. On this basis all the work on hand would then be divided among all existing workers in accordance with how the extent of the working week is defined. The average wage of every worker remains the same as it was under the old working week. Wages, under a strictly guaranteed minimum, would follow the movement of prices. It is impossible to accept any other program for the present catastrophic period.
Property owners and their lawyers will prove the “unrealizability” of these demands. Smaller, especially ruined capitalists, in addition will refer to their account ledgers. The workers categorically denounce such conclusions and references. The question is not one of a “normal” collision between opposing material interests. The question is one of guarding the proletariat from decay, demoralization and ruin. The question is one of life or death of the only creative and progressive class, and by that token of the future of mankind. If capitalism is incapable of satisfying the demands inevitably arising from the calamities generated by itself, then let it perish. “Realizability” or “unrealizability” is in the given instance a question of the relationship of forces, which can be decided only by the struggle. By means of this struggle, no matter what immediate practical successes may be, the workers will best come to understand the necessity of liquidating capitalist slavery.
Guest Commentary
From The Transitional Program Of The Fourth International In 1938
Sliding Scale of Wages
and Sliding Scale of Hours
Under the conditions of disintegrating capitalism, the masses continue to live the meagerized life of the oppressed, threatened now more than at any other time with the danger of being cast into the pit of pauperism. They must defend their mouthful of bread, if they cannot increase or better it. There is neither the need nor the opportunity to enumerate here those separate, partial demands which time and again arise on the basis of concrete circumstances – national, local, trade union. But two basic economic afflictions, in which is summarized the increasing absurdity of the capitalist system, that is, unemployment and high prices, demand generalized slogans and methods of struggle.
The Fourth International declares uncompromising war on the politics of the capitalists which, to a considerable degree, like the politics of their agents, the reformists, aims to place the whole burden of militarism, the crisis, the disorganization of the monetary system and all other scourges stemming from capitalism’s death agony upon the backs of the toilers. The Fourth International demands employment and decent living conditions for all.
Neither monetary inflation nor stabilization can serve as slogans for the proletariat because these are but two ends of the same stick. Against a bounding rise in prices, which with the approach of war will assume an ever more unbridled character, one can fight only under the slogan of a sliding scale of wages. This means that collective agreements should assure an automatic rise in wages in relation to the increase in price of consumer goods.
Under the menace of its own disintegration, the proletariat cannot permit the transformation of an increasing section of the workers into chronically unemployed paupers, living off the slops of a crumbling society. The right to employment is the only serious right left to the worker in a society based upon exploitation. This right today is left to the worker in a society based upon exploitation. This right today is being shorn from him at every step. Against unemployment, “structural” as well as “conjunctural,” the time is ripe to advance along with the slogan of public works, the slogan of a sliding scale of working hours. Trade unions and other mass organizations should bind the workers and the unemployed together in the solidarity of mutual responsibility. On this basis all the work on hand would then be divided among all existing workers in accordance with how the extent of the working week is defined. The average wage of every worker remains the same as it was under the old working week. Wages, under a strictly guaranteed minimum, would follow the movement of prices. It is impossible to accept any other program for the present catastrophic period.
Property owners and their lawyers will prove the “unrealizability” of these demands. Smaller, especially ruined capitalists, in addition will refer to their account ledgers. The workers categorically denounce such conclusions and references. The question is not one of a “normal” collision between opposing material interests. The question is one of guarding the proletariat from decay, demoralization and ruin. The question is one of life or death of the only creative and progressive class, and by that token of the future of mankind. If capitalism is incapable of satisfying the demands inevitably arising from the calamities generated by itself, then let it perish. “Realizability” or “unrealizability” is in the given instance a question of the relationship of forces, which can be decided only by the struggle. By means of this struggle, no matter what immediate practical successes may be, the workers will best come to understand the necessity of liquidating capitalist slavery.
*Honor The Heroic British Miners Strike Of 1984-85
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Newsreel Footage Of A tribute To The British Coal Miners And Their Families
Guest Commentary
20th anniversary of an historic battle: the British miners strike
by Kjell Pettersson
The following article is translated from the April 8 issue of Internationalen, the weekly newspaper of Socialist Action’s cothinkers in Sweden, the Socialist Party, Swedish section of the Fourth International. It commemorates the great British coal miners strike of 1984-85, the opening battle against the worldwide capitalist and imperialist offensive known as neoliberalism, which has since worn away many of the historic gains of working people and sent millions of workers into chronic unemployment and misery. In several Latin American countries and Indonesia, it has led to recent mass uprisings. But the first fight came in the oldest country of capitalism, and it already demonstrated the new aggressiveness of capital in the age of economic decline that began with the recession of the early 1970s.
The British working class and especially the British coal miners have their pride. They have a strong self-consciousness and an acute awareness of their historic importance for the British energy supply. They struck in 1925. They broke the Heath Conservative government in 1973. Politicians, whether they come from the British Labour Party or the Conservative Tories, had to think more than once before they took a decision that did not suit this section of the British working class.
The coal miners and their families live in British working-class row houses where life tends to be hard and unrelenting. A cave-in, a badly laid dynamite charge—there are always risks. And those who have to live with death have to harden themselves.
But not even the coal miners, with their collective strength as their foundation and a mutual solidarity pact against the expected results of the Tory victory in 1979 for their own cause, were prepared for the fight they would have to face. Nor could the other British unions in their wildest imaginations grasp the scope of the open class war that was launched the same day that Margaret Thatcher took office as prime minister.
Thatcher, also called the "Iron Lady," with her icy gray eyes and her nimble tongue, was more neoliberal than neoliberalism itself. She was a reactionary fanatic, a dangerous visionary, who understood that one of the prerequisites for the capitalism of today and tomorrow is to sweep away all the obstacles on its path. For Thatcher that meant tearing down the public sector, the state monopolies, job security, wage bargaining—and not least of all, the counterpower, the hated trade unions.
This not something that she and the other members of her government and her advisors first thought of in 1979. It had been in the works before the Tory government came into office in 1979. It was to develop into an open crusade against the coal miners in the year-long strike that started at the end of January 1984.
Already in May 1978, the British magazine The Economist had ferreted out the future government’s strategy for fighting the unions. The outlines were drawn up by the Conservative parliamentary Policy Group under the leadership of MP Nicolas Ridley. This group was perceptive enough to work with the entirely likely hypothesis that, a year or two after the Tory election victory, the unions would start to recover from the shock. A challenge would come either over wages or layoffs.
Having learned from their previous experience, they feared that the fight would start in a so-called vulnerable industry, such as coal, electricity, or the docks, with the support of what they called "the full force of the Communist troublemakers."
After a day’s work, the Policy Group came to the conclusion that the most likely and the most favorable battleground was the coal industry. Out of sheer self-preservation, the coal miners and their militant leader, Arthur Scargill, had to fight back when the government announced that at least 20,000 jobs were going to go, and in the longer term talked about 70,000 jobs.
If the government could break the hard nut of the coal miners, it would be much easier for it to tame the weaker and more yielding sections of the trade-union movement.
But to win they needed a strategy. The Policy Group, or more correctly, the general staff of the Tory government, thought there several prerequisites for winning the fight. They needed a series of cards to win the fight. The hand they played had at least six. Before the government launched its war, it had to: Build up the maximum coal stocks. Make plans for the eventual importation of coal. Promote the recruitment of unorganized truck drivers to help transport coal when necessary. Introduce parallel coal and oil firing at all power stations as soon as possible. Cut all benefits for strikes and force the union to finance the strike. Have a mobile police force equipped and ready to enforce the law against strike pickets. "Good unorganized drivers should be recruited to drive through strike picket lines under police protection." The government was playing a loaded game. It held the aces. The war could start, and it started a few months into 1984.
Before it got underway, the British National Coal Board got a new chief, Ian McGregor. He did not mince any words: "Behave yourselves and you have a future, don’t behave yourself, and you have none. " Later on, it turned out that there was no future for any coal miners.
At the start of the strike, the Iron Lady thundered, "On the Falkland Islands [in the war against Argentina], we had to fight the foreign enemy. We have the internal enemy, and it is harder and more dangerous to freedom."
The coal miners’ strike held out for an incredible year. The odds from the beginning were not the best. By April, 80 percent of the coal miners had joined the strike.
But, and this is an important "but," in Nottinghamshire, the strike front broke from the start, when a majority of the coal miners in the district refused to join the strike. They did this in the belief that their mines were more secure. Later, after the strike, they would see things differently. Even though during the strike, the coal miners proclaimed again and again, "Miners united cannot be defeated," they were not entirely united.
Moreover, it is one thing to strike for higher wages when the economic situation is good and the enterprise is making high profits. It is quite another thing, and a much harder struggle, to strike against layoffs, when the employers want to shed labor power.
Strikebreakers and a hard fight to save jobs were already in store before the strike started. Moreover, there was a government ready to resort to any means whatever to crush the strike.
In order for the strike to have a chance, the miners had to get all the support they could; in part from the central British trade union organization, the Trades Union Council; and not least from the British Labour Party, led by Neil Kinnock.
The support from the TUC remained half hearted, and from the Labour Party not even that. On the other hand, the miners got unprecedented support from solidarity organizations in Great Britain and internationally.
Facing an almost unnatural test of strength, it was a wonder that the miners could hold out for a year before they finally were forced to lower their flag. For those arrested, imprisoned, and harassed, there was no money—nothing but their class feelings and their solidarity. They had been mocked and slandered by a more or less united British press, which loyally followed and supported the Thatcher government.
Their opponents were well organized. They had passed laws against the blockades around the workplaces, stocked coal, and when the coal stocks began to empty out in the summer of 1984 they managed to bring in the first ships of strikebreaker coal—from Poland, among other places.
Through laws, the government had stopped all local and state contributions, and that led to unions being able to pay strike support only exceptionally. The total outlay for police was around about $250 million. About 11,000 workers were arrested and treated like criminals.
They sacrificed everything. The words, "Blood, sweat, and tears," never had such a concrete meaning as during the long miners’ strike.
A description of what the miners were forced to go through comes from a miners’ community where both father and son struck. A nearly year-long strike had led to many miners’ families living on the edge of starvation. In one of these many families, the situation was more than stark. Someone simply had to go back to work and become hated as a blackleg for the rest of his life. The father took on this burden so that his son could avoid being called a "scab" for the rest of his life, because he himself had less time to live.
On Sunday, March 1,1985, a year after the strike started, two Welsh miners’ wives, Anne Jones and Barbara Edwards, were to speak at the Fokets Hus in Stockholm. An hour before the rally, they learned that the Mine Workers Delegate Conference had decided by a narrow majority to end the strike. But the two women still summoned up their strength went up to the platform.
"As the men go back to work on Tuesday," they said, "bills are going to start pouring in. For the whole strike, we did not pay rent, gas, or electricity. the bills are going to mount up in the miners' homes. Some of us have already gotten eviction notices.
"Our going back is not because the miners did not fight hard enough for their cause. The responsibility for the defeat does not lie with the coal miners or their union. The responsibility falls entirely on the leadership of the TUC and the right-wingers in the Labour Party who did not lift a finger to support the miners."
Two days later, on March 3, the miners went back to work. Over TV, I saw a union leader of a type that does not grow on trees, Arthur Scargill, at the head of his miner comrades behind a trade-union banner leading the union Golgotha march back to work in the Welsh mine where he once worked.
In 1984, when the strike started, there were 170 coal mines in Great Britain. Ten years later, in 1994, there were 17. In the same period, the number of coal miners declined from 181,000 to 11,000.
After the end of the strike, the National Coal Board chief, Ian McGregor, scolded, "Now people are finding out the price of their stubbornness and rebelliousness. And, my children, I will see that it is recognized."
Now it is 20 years since the coal miners’ strike started. It was a strike that certainly ended in a crushing defeat. A defeat that for the Thatcher government was a victory that opened the door for neoliberalism and ruinous capitalism.
The defeat was not one for the coal miners alone but for the whole international workers’ movement and not the least for its trade-union structures. They did not want, or were not allowed, to understand that the coal miners were fighting for them as well.
The coal miners lost. But one thing cannot be taken from them. They fought, and in the circumstances, they fought more than well.
Guest Commentary
20th anniversary of an historic battle: the British miners strike
by Kjell Pettersson
The following article is translated from the April 8 issue of Internationalen, the weekly newspaper of Socialist Action’s cothinkers in Sweden, the Socialist Party, Swedish section of the Fourth International. It commemorates the great British coal miners strike of 1984-85, the opening battle against the worldwide capitalist and imperialist offensive known as neoliberalism, which has since worn away many of the historic gains of working people and sent millions of workers into chronic unemployment and misery. In several Latin American countries and Indonesia, it has led to recent mass uprisings. But the first fight came in the oldest country of capitalism, and it already demonstrated the new aggressiveness of capital in the age of economic decline that began with the recession of the early 1970s.
The British working class and especially the British coal miners have their pride. They have a strong self-consciousness and an acute awareness of their historic importance for the British energy supply. They struck in 1925. They broke the Heath Conservative government in 1973. Politicians, whether they come from the British Labour Party or the Conservative Tories, had to think more than once before they took a decision that did not suit this section of the British working class.
The coal miners and their families live in British working-class row houses where life tends to be hard and unrelenting. A cave-in, a badly laid dynamite charge—there are always risks. And those who have to live with death have to harden themselves.
But not even the coal miners, with their collective strength as their foundation and a mutual solidarity pact against the expected results of the Tory victory in 1979 for their own cause, were prepared for the fight they would have to face. Nor could the other British unions in their wildest imaginations grasp the scope of the open class war that was launched the same day that Margaret Thatcher took office as prime minister.
Thatcher, also called the "Iron Lady," with her icy gray eyes and her nimble tongue, was more neoliberal than neoliberalism itself. She was a reactionary fanatic, a dangerous visionary, who understood that one of the prerequisites for the capitalism of today and tomorrow is to sweep away all the obstacles on its path. For Thatcher that meant tearing down the public sector, the state monopolies, job security, wage bargaining—and not least of all, the counterpower, the hated trade unions.
This not something that she and the other members of her government and her advisors first thought of in 1979. It had been in the works before the Tory government came into office in 1979. It was to develop into an open crusade against the coal miners in the year-long strike that started at the end of January 1984.
Already in May 1978, the British magazine The Economist had ferreted out the future government’s strategy for fighting the unions. The outlines were drawn up by the Conservative parliamentary Policy Group under the leadership of MP Nicolas Ridley. This group was perceptive enough to work with the entirely likely hypothesis that, a year or two after the Tory election victory, the unions would start to recover from the shock. A challenge would come either over wages or layoffs.
Having learned from their previous experience, they feared that the fight would start in a so-called vulnerable industry, such as coal, electricity, or the docks, with the support of what they called "the full force of the Communist troublemakers."
After a day’s work, the Policy Group came to the conclusion that the most likely and the most favorable battleground was the coal industry. Out of sheer self-preservation, the coal miners and their militant leader, Arthur Scargill, had to fight back when the government announced that at least 20,000 jobs were going to go, and in the longer term talked about 70,000 jobs.
If the government could break the hard nut of the coal miners, it would be much easier for it to tame the weaker and more yielding sections of the trade-union movement.
But to win they needed a strategy. The Policy Group, or more correctly, the general staff of the Tory government, thought there several prerequisites for winning the fight. They needed a series of cards to win the fight. The hand they played had at least six. Before the government launched its war, it had to: Build up the maximum coal stocks. Make plans for the eventual importation of coal. Promote the recruitment of unorganized truck drivers to help transport coal when necessary. Introduce parallel coal and oil firing at all power stations as soon as possible. Cut all benefits for strikes and force the union to finance the strike. Have a mobile police force equipped and ready to enforce the law against strike pickets. "Good unorganized drivers should be recruited to drive through strike picket lines under police protection." The government was playing a loaded game. It held the aces. The war could start, and it started a few months into 1984.
Before it got underway, the British National Coal Board got a new chief, Ian McGregor. He did not mince any words: "Behave yourselves and you have a future, don’t behave yourself, and you have none. " Later on, it turned out that there was no future for any coal miners.
At the start of the strike, the Iron Lady thundered, "On the Falkland Islands [in the war against Argentina], we had to fight the foreign enemy. We have the internal enemy, and it is harder and more dangerous to freedom."
The coal miners’ strike held out for an incredible year. The odds from the beginning were not the best. By April, 80 percent of the coal miners had joined the strike.
But, and this is an important "but," in Nottinghamshire, the strike front broke from the start, when a majority of the coal miners in the district refused to join the strike. They did this in the belief that their mines were more secure. Later, after the strike, they would see things differently. Even though during the strike, the coal miners proclaimed again and again, "Miners united cannot be defeated," they were not entirely united.
Moreover, it is one thing to strike for higher wages when the economic situation is good and the enterprise is making high profits. It is quite another thing, and a much harder struggle, to strike against layoffs, when the employers want to shed labor power.
Strikebreakers and a hard fight to save jobs were already in store before the strike started. Moreover, there was a government ready to resort to any means whatever to crush the strike.
In order for the strike to have a chance, the miners had to get all the support they could; in part from the central British trade union organization, the Trades Union Council; and not least from the British Labour Party, led by Neil Kinnock.
The support from the TUC remained half hearted, and from the Labour Party not even that. On the other hand, the miners got unprecedented support from solidarity organizations in Great Britain and internationally.
Facing an almost unnatural test of strength, it was a wonder that the miners could hold out for a year before they finally were forced to lower their flag. For those arrested, imprisoned, and harassed, there was no money—nothing but their class feelings and their solidarity. They had been mocked and slandered by a more or less united British press, which loyally followed and supported the Thatcher government.
Their opponents were well organized. They had passed laws against the blockades around the workplaces, stocked coal, and when the coal stocks began to empty out in the summer of 1984 they managed to bring in the first ships of strikebreaker coal—from Poland, among other places.
Through laws, the government had stopped all local and state contributions, and that led to unions being able to pay strike support only exceptionally. The total outlay for police was around about $250 million. About 11,000 workers were arrested and treated like criminals.
They sacrificed everything. The words, "Blood, sweat, and tears," never had such a concrete meaning as during the long miners’ strike.
A description of what the miners were forced to go through comes from a miners’ community where both father and son struck. A nearly year-long strike had led to many miners’ families living on the edge of starvation. In one of these many families, the situation was more than stark. Someone simply had to go back to work and become hated as a blackleg for the rest of his life. The father took on this burden so that his son could avoid being called a "scab" for the rest of his life, because he himself had less time to live.
On Sunday, March 1,1985, a year after the strike started, two Welsh miners’ wives, Anne Jones and Barbara Edwards, were to speak at the Fokets Hus in Stockholm. An hour before the rally, they learned that the Mine Workers Delegate Conference had decided by a narrow majority to end the strike. But the two women still summoned up their strength went up to the platform.
"As the men go back to work on Tuesday," they said, "bills are going to start pouring in. For the whole strike, we did not pay rent, gas, or electricity. the bills are going to mount up in the miners' homes. Some of us have already gotten eviction notices.
"Our going back is not because the miners did not fight hard enough for their cause. The responsibility for the defeat does not lie with the coal miners or their union. The responsibility falls entirely on the leadership of the TUC and the right-wingers in the Labour Party who did not lift a finger to support the miners."
Two days later, on March 3, the miners went back to work. Over TV, I saw a union leader of a type that does not grow on trees, Arthur Scargill, at the head of his miner comrades behind a trade-union banner leading the union Golgotha march back to work in the Welsh mine where he once worked.
In 1984, when the strike started, there were 170 coal mines in Great Britain. Ten years later, in 1994, there were 17. In the same period, the number of coal miners declined from 181,000 to 11,000.
After the end of the strike, the National Coal Board chief, Ian McGregor, scolded, "Now people are finding out the price of their stubbornness and rebelliousness. And, my children, I will see that it is recognized."
Now it is 20 years since the coal miners’ strike started. It was a strike that certainly ended in a crushing defeat. A defeat that for the Thatcher government was a victory that opened the door for neoliberalism and ruinous capitalism.
The defeat was not one for the coal miners alone but for the whole international workers’ movement and not the least for its trade-union structures. They did not want, or were not allowed, to understand that the coal miners were fighting for them as well.
The coal miners lost. But one thing cannot be taken from them. They fought, and in the circumstances, they fought more than well.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
*Wall Street, Washington Shaft Auto Workers- A Guest Commenatry
Click On Title To Link To International Communist League Website.
Guest Commentary
Workers Vanguard No. 938
5 June 2009
UAW Tops Enforce Obama’s Raw Deal
Wall Street, Washington Shaft Auto Workers
JUNE 2—Global auto giant General Motors, for decades one of the pillars of American capitalism, yesterday followed Chrysler into Chapter 11 bankruptcy under the guiding hand of President Barack Obama’s Wall Street cronies in his “auto task force.” The plunge in sales brought on by a global economy going to hell left the automakers scrambling for federal aid to stave off financial ruin. From the outset, we have opposed the bailout of the auto bosses, underlining that it “will be purchased through the further destruction of the jobs and livelihoods of working people” (“Bosses Declare War on UAW Workers,” WV No. 926, 5 December 2008). This is precisely what’s on order with the GM and Chrysler bankruptcies—to reshape the industry to again make it a lucrative source of profits for Wall Street by breaking the back of the United Auto Workers (UAW) union.
Obama, whose election was bankrolled to the tune of $5 million by the sellouts who head the UAW, celebrated “the beginning of a new G.M.” But for tens of thousands of auto workers it is the end of the line. Under the “bailout” deal, GM and Chrysler have announced that they will shut down 20 to 28 plants. The UAW, which was once the symbol of union power in the U.S., will be a shadow of its former self. The UAW’s membership has already withered from a high of 1.6 million in the 1960s to less than 500,000 today, with a scant 140,000 working for the Big Three (GM, Ford and Chrysler). In the 1970s, GM alone employed nearly 400,000 workers. With the plant closings the workforce will be reduced to fewer than 40,000. The gutting of the UAW is a heavy blow against all workers, organized and unorganized.
The UAW misleaders are helping to foot the bill for “restructuring” the automakers—at the cost of tens of thousands of jobs—by accepting worthless stock in GM and Chrysler to fund over half the union’s retiree health care trust (itself a sellout brokered in the 2007 contract to save the company $3 billion a year in health care costs). The head of the “New GM” boasted that this was a “defining moment” that would, as the New York Times (2 June) noted, allow the company “to ‘permanently’ unshackle itself from the cost of supporting hundreds of thousands of retirees.” Those “lucky” enough to keep their jobs will be shackled by a “no strike” pledge for the next six years while the auto bosses continue to hack away at their wages and benefits to bring them into line with labor costs at non-union auto plants.
Here is the bitter fruit of the trade-union bureaucracy’s program of class collaboration, which has long tied the interests of the unions to the profitability of their capitalist exploiters. “I’m very comfortable,” UAW head Ron Gettelfinger told National Public Radio on May 1, the day after Chrysler entered Chapter 11. “It’s not like we’re going into this bankruptcy fighting with Chrysler and [merger partner] Fiat and the U.S. Treasury. We’re going in there in lockstep to put our agreements in place.”
Gettelfinger’s agreements make the union joint stockholders in bankrupt GM and Chrysler. An article in the New York Times (2 June) titled “G.M.’s New Owners, U.S. and Labor, Adjust to Roles,” pointed to “industry experts” who “predict that the union, far more than before, will help management increase profitability—with the goal of pushing up the automakers’ stock prices.” In other words, as a “co-owner” the UAW will directly have a hand in ratcheting up the rate of exploitation of its own remaining members.
The attacks on the UAW highlight the attacks on all workers, in the U.S. and internationally, amid the world economic crisis. The auto industry’s devastation is a stark example of the anarchy and decay of capitalist production for profit to which there is no simple trade-union solution. But one thing is clear. If the unions are to fight not only in their own interests, but in the interests of the mass of unorganized workers and the unemployed, there must be a new leadership of labor, one armed with a program of class struggle. This is an integral part of the fight to forge a revolutionary workers party that champions the cause of black people, immigrants and all the impoverished masses brutally ground down under the heel of America’s capitalist rulers. As we wrote in “Auto Bailout Means Union Busting” (WV No. 931, 27 February):
“The fight for jobs is equivalent to the fight against the devastation of America’s working people. What is necessary is a massive program of public works at union wages to rebuild the dams, bridges and roads that are in an advanced stage of decay; to tear down and replace the crumbling public schools in the nation’s inner cities; to create an America that looks like a place that its inhabitants could survive in. It is necessary to call an end to the layoffs by shortening the workweek at no loss in pay, as part of the struggle for jobs for all.
“All must have full access to medical care at no cost and unemployment benefits must be extended until there are jobs, with all pensions completely guaranteed by the government. Such demands, the elements of which were laid out in the 1938 Transitional Program, the founding document of the Trotskyist Fourth International, will not be granted by the rapacious capitalist rulers. The capitalist state exists to defend the rule and profits of the bourgeoisie. It cannot be reformed or wielded to serve the interests of working people. The catastrophe of joblessness, threatening the disintegration of the working class, can be effectively fought only by a workers movement led by those committed to the struggle for socialist revolution and the establishment of a workers government where those who labor rule.”
Capitalism’s Labor Lieutenants
In return for allowing the automakers to cut in half the billions owed the health benefit program, the UAW will get 55 percent of the equity in the “New Chrysler”—and one seat on the board—and up to 20 percent in “New GM” once the companies emerge from bankruptcy. But what’s 55 percent of nothing? Until the private equity firm Cerberus bought Chrysler in 2007, the UAW head had sat on the board for almost 30 years. Chrysler first offered the UAW tops a seat when it was threatening bankruptcy in 1979, all the better for UAW chief Doug Fraser to help shove concessions and plant closings down the workers’ throats. Now, the UAW rep on the Chrysler board is obligated to vote “in accordance with the direction of the independent directors.”
Round after round of concessions from the labor traitors have greatly undermined union organizing, as workers rightly expect something to show for being members of a union. In 1982, GM closed its assembly plant in Fremont, California—a relatively new facility built in 1968—dispersing the heavily black workforce. The company reopened the plant as a joint venture with Toyota, with no union. After cutting a “sweetheart” deal with the automakers in 1985, the UAW got back into the plant. Now one Fremont UAW worker told WV that workers increasingly don’t see the benefit of the union. The very survival of the unions demands a struggle against the class collaborationism of the labor bureaucracy.
For Gettelfinger & Co., the overriding concern is not the livelihood of the UAW membership but the “competitiveness” of U.S. automakers. In testimony before Congress last year, the UAW chief went so far as to boast that “the gap in labor costs” between the Big Three and the non-union “foreign transplant operations will be largely or completely eliminated by the end of the [2007] contracts.” This is what the union misleaders’ poisonous “America First” protectionism means: railing against “outsourcing” of jobs abroad while not lifting a finger to organize the mass of unorganized auto workers in “foreign transplant operations” in the American South and elsewhere.
In an e-mail to UAW members at GM, the UAW bureaucracy called on Obama to “maintain the maximum number of jobs in the U.S. instead of outsourcing more production to foreign countries.” Such protectionism undermines struggle by poisoning workers’ class consciousness and solidarity, scapegoating foreign workers for the loss of jobs in the U.S. while reinforcing support to the American capitalist order.
The UAW bureaucracy has long been a leading force tying the working class to the capitalist rulers through support to the capitalist Democratic Party. A New York Times article (30 April) quoted Walter Reuther, who became UAW head in 1946, saying, “We have to fight both in the economic and political fields, because what you win on the picket lines, they take away in Washington if you don’t fight on that front.” For the social-democratic Reuther and his UAW successors, the Washington “front” has always meant subordinating the union to the Democrats. In service to this class-collaborationist alliance, the union tops have all but given up the class-struggle methods that built the unions in the first place.
The only way the labor movement can be revitalized is by returning to the road of class struggle. Immediately posed is the fight to organize the mass of unorganized workers, particularly in the “right to work” South. This will require actively combating black oppression, long used by the capitalists to divide and weaken labor as a whole. Against the government’s anti-immigrant raids, which have derailed one organizing campaign after another, the union movement must fight for full citizenship rights for all immigrants. Key to all such battles is the fight for the political independence of the workers from the capitalists and their government and political parties. Break with the Democrats! For a revolutionary workers party!
Reformist Nationalization Schemes
Having joined the labor bureaucrats in hailing Obama’s election, the reformist “socialists” now “hope” that he’ll bail out working people. Socialist Worker (6 April), newspaper of the International Socialist Organization (ISO), baldly stated: “Instead of using its billions to help auto executives push through attacks on workers or to create small surges in demand, the Obama administration could use its leverage as the auto industry’s creditor of last resort to implement a comprehensive plan that includes taking over the auto industry.” Obama is “taking over the auto industry” precisely to “push through attacks on workers.” The Obama administration is littered with Wall Street financiers—from Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner to National Economic Council head Larry Summers—whose program is trillions for the capitalists and sacrifice by the workers.
Appealing to this bankers’ cabal to nationalize the auto industry, the ISO wrote in International Socialist Review (May-June 2009): “Nationalization of industries under threat of bankruptcy has historically been a demand of the socialist movement as a means to save jobs and ensure the provision of needed services.” The ISO would be more honest if it said that this has historically been a demand of social democrats who seek to tinker with and administer the capitalist state. Such nationalizations amount to nothing more than giving failing enterprises a new lease on life. The nationalization of the losers of capitalist competition has nothing in common with the socialist expropriation of the means of production by a workers government. Taking over and subsidizing bankrupt firms to “save jobs” was for many years a standard practice of British Labour Party governments by which they sought to promote the interests of British imperialism.
As our comrades in the Spartacist League/Britain observed in “New Labour Fleeces Working People” (Workers Hammer No. 205, Winter 2008-09): “In the context of British imperialism’s loss of hegemonic power, the nationalisations of coal, steel and other industries by the [post-World War II] Clement Attlee Labour government were in reality giant capitalist bailouts designed to help British capitalism to compete in the world market.” In competition with more efficient private firms, nationalized enterprises require massive subsidies financed by immiserating the working class through, for example, high taxation.
Polemicizing against reformist “socialists” who put forward nationalization schemes to rescue failing capitalist enterprises, Bolshevik leader Leon Trotsky declared:
“We can say to the miner, you wish nationalization. Yes, it is our slogan. It is only a question of conditions. If the national property is too burdened with debts against the former owners, your conditions can become worse than now. To base the whole proceedings upon a free agreement between the owners and the state signifies ruin of the workers. Now you must organize your own government in the state and expropriate them.”
—“Conversation on the Slogan ‘Workers and Farmers Government’,” Writings of Leon Trotsky, 1938-39
The program of the labor bureaucracy and its reformist tails—defined by what is “practical” under capitalism—has led to disaster for the working class. We Marxists put forward the revolutionary strategy offered by the Transitional Program, where Trotsky declared: “The question is one of guarding the proletariat from decay, demoralization, and ruin…. If capitalism is incapable of satisfying the demands inevitably arising from the calamities generated by itself, then let it perish.” The burning necessity is for a proletarian revolution to rip the productive wealth of society out of the hands of the greedy capitalist rulers and build a collectivized, planned economy where production is based on social need, not profit.
Guest Commentary
Workers Vanguard No. 938
5 June 2009
UAW Tops Enforce Obama’s Raw Deal
Wall Street, Washington Shaft Auto Workers
JUNE 2—Global auto giant General Motors, for decades one of the pillars of American capitalism, yesterday followed Chrysler into Chapter 11 bankruptcy under the guiding hand of President Barack Obama’s Wall Street cronies in his “auto task force.” The plunge in sales brought on by a global economy going to hell left the automakers scrambling for federal aid to stave off financial ruin. From the outset, we have opposed the bailout of the auto bosses, underlining that it “will be purchased through the further destruction of the jobs and livelihoods of working people” (“Bosses Declare War on UAW Workers,” WV No. 926, 5 December 2008). This is precisely what’s on order with the GM and Chrysler bankruptcies—to reshape the industry to again make it a lucrative source of profits for Wall Street by breaking the back of the United Auto Workers (UAW) union.
Obama, whose election was bankrolled to the tune of $5 million by the sellouts who head the UAW, celebrated “the beginning of a new G.M.” But for tens of thousands of auto workers it is the end of the line. Under the “bailout” deal, GM and Chrysler have announced that they will shut down 20 to 28 plants. The UAW, which was once the symbol of union power in the U.S., will be a shadow of its former self. The UAW’s membership has already withered from a high of 1.6 million in the 1960s to less than 500,000 today, with a scant 140,000 working for the Big Three (GM, Ford and Chrysler). In the 1970s, GM alone employed nearly 400,000 workers. With the plant closings the workforce will be reduced to fewer than 40,000. The gutting of the UAW is a heavy blow against all workers, organized and unorganized.
The UAW misleaders are helping to foot the bill for “restructuring” the automakers—at the cost of tens of thousands of jobs—by accepting worthless stock in GM and Chrysler to fund over half the union’s retiree health care trust (itself a sellout brokered in the 2007 contract to save the company $3 billion a year in health care costs). The head of the “New GM” boasted that this was a “defining moment” that would, as the New York Times (2 June) noted, allow the company “to ‘permanently’ unshackle itself from the cost of supporting hundreds of thousands of retirees.” Those “lucky” enough to keep their jobs will be shackled by a “no strike” pledge for the next six years while the auto bosses continue to hack away at their wages and benefits to bring them into line with labor costs at non-union auto plants.
Here is the bitter fruit of the trade-union bureaucracy’s program of class collaboration, which has long tied the interests of the unions to the profitability of their capitalist exploiters. “I’m very comfortable,” UAW head Ron Gettelfinger told National Public Radio on May 1, the day after Chrysler entered Chapter 11. “It’s not like we’re going into this bankruptcy fighting with Chrysler and [merger partner] Fiat and the U.S. Treasury. We’re going in there in lockstep to put our agreements in place.”
Gettelfinger’s agreements make the union joint stockholders in bankrupt GM and Chrysler. An article in the New York Times (2 June) titled “G.M.’s New Owners, U.S. and Labor, Adjust to Roles,” pointed to “industry experts” who “predict that the union, far more than before, will help management increase profitability—with the goal of pushing up the automakers’ stock prices.” In other words, as a “co-owner” the UAW will directly have a hand in ratcheting up the rate of exploitation of its own remaining members.
The attacks on the UAW highlight the attacks on all workers, in the U.S. and internationally, amid the world economic crisis. The auto industry’s devastation is a stark example of the anarchy and decay of capitalist production for profit to which there is no simple trade-union solution. But one thing is clear. If the unions are to fight not only in their own interests, but in the interests of the mass of unorganized workers and the unemployed, there must be a new leadership of labor, one armed with a program of class struggle. This is an integral part of the fight to forge a revolutionary workers party that champions the cause of black people, immigrants and all the impoverished masses brutally ground down under the heel of America’s capitalist rulers. As we wrote in “Auto Bailout Means Union Busting” (WV No. 931, 27 February):
“The fight for jobs is equivalent to the fight against the devastation of America’s working people. What is necessary is a massive program of public works at union wages to rebuild the dams, bridges and roads that are in an advanced stage of decay; to tear down and replace the crumbling public schools in the nation’s inner cities; to create an America that looks like a place that its inhabitants could survive in. It is necessary to call an end to the layoffs by shortening the workweek at no loss in pay, as part of the struggle for jobs for all.
“All must have full access to medical care at no cost and unemployment benefits must be extended until there are jobs, with all pensions completely guaranteed by the government. Such demands, the elements of which were laid out in the 1938 Transitional Program, the founding document of the Trotskyist Fourth International, will not be granted by the rapacious capitalist rulers. The capitalist state exists to defend the rule and profits of the bourgeoisie. It cannot be reformed or wielded to serve the interests of working people. The catastrophe of joblessness, threatening the disintegration of the working class, can be effectively fought only by a workers movement led by those committed to the struggle for socialist revolution and the establishment of a workers government where those who labor rule.”
Capitalism’s Labor Lieutenants
In return for allowing the automakers to cut in half the billions owed the health benefit program, the UAW will get 55 percent of the equity in the “New Chrysler”—and one seat on the board—and up to 20 percent in “New GM” once the companies emerge from bankruptcy. But what’s 55 percent of nothing? Until the private equity firm Cerberus bought Chrysler in 2007, the UAW head had sat on the board for almost 30 years. Chrysler first offered the UAW tops a seat when it was threatening bankruptcy in 1979, all the better for UAW chief Doug Fraser to help shove concessions and plant closings down the workers’ throats. Now, the UAW rep on the Chrysler board is obligated to vote “in accordance with the direction of the independent directors.”
Round after round of concessions from the labor traitors have greatly undermined union organizing, as workers rightly expect something to show for being members of a union. In 1982, GM closed its assembly plant in Fremont, California—a relatively new facility built in 1968—dispersing the heavily black workforce. The company reopened the plant as a joint venture with Toyota, with no union. After cutting a “sweetheart” deal with the automakers in 1985, the UAW got back into the plant. Now one Fremont UAW worker told WV that workers increasingly don’t see the benefit of the union. The very survival of the unions demands a struggle against the class collaborationism of the labor bureaucracy.
For Gettelfinger & Co., the overriding concern is not the livelihood of the UAW membership but the “competitiveness” of U.S. automakers. In testimony before Congress last year, the UAW chief went so far as to boast that “the gap in labor costs” between the Big Three and the non-union “foreign transplant operations will be largely or completely eliminated by the end of the [2007] contracts.” This is what the union misleaders’ poisonous “America First” protectionism means: railing against “outsourcing” of jobs abroad while not lifting a finger to organize the mass of unorganized auto workers in “foreign transplant operations” in the American South and elsewhere.
In an e-mail to UAW members at GM, the UAW bureaucracy called on Obama to “maintain the maximum number of jobs in the U.S. instead of outsourcing more production to foreign countries.” Such protectionism undermines struggle by poisoning workers’ class consciousness and solidarity, scapegoating foreign workers for the loss of jobs in the U.S. while reinforcing support to the American capitalist order.
The UAW bureaucracy has long been a leading force tying the working class to the capitalist rulers through support to the capitalist Democratic Party. A New York Times article (30 April) quoted Walter Reuther, who became UAW head in 1946, saying, “We have to fight both in the economic and political fields, because what you win on the picket lines, they take away in Washington if you don’t fight on that front.” For the social-democratic Reuther and his UAW successors, the Washington “front” has always meant subordinating the union to the Democrats. In service to this class-collaborationist alliance, the union tops have all but given up the class-struggle methods that built the unions in the first place.
The only way the labor movement can be revitalized is by returning to the road of class struggle. Immediately posed is the fight to organize the mass of unorganized workers, particularly in the “right to work” South. This will require actively combating black oppression, long used by the capitalists to divide and weaken labor as a whole. Against the government’s anti-immigrant raids, which have derailed one organizing campaign after another, the union movement must fight for full citizenship rights for all immigrants. Key to all such battles is the fight for the political independence of the workers from the capitalists and their government and political parties. Break with the Democrats! For a revolutionary workers party!
Reformist Nationalization Schemes
Having joined the labor bureaucrats in hailing Obama’s election, the reformist “socialists” now “hope” that he’ll bail out working people. Socialist Worker (6 April), newspaper of the International Socialist Organization (ISO), baldly stated: “Instead of using its billions to help auto executives push through attacks on workers or to create small surges in demand, the Obama administration could use its leverage as the auto industry’s creditor of last resort to implement a comprehensive plan that includes taking over the auto industry.” Obama is “taking over the auto industry” precisely to “push through attacks on workers.” The Obama administration is littered with Wall Street financiers—from Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner to National Economic Council head Larry Summers—whose program is trillions for the capitalists and sacrifice by the workers.
Appealing to this bankers’ cabal to nationalize the auto industry, the ISO wrote in International Socialist Review (May-June 2009): “Nationalization of industries under threat of bankruptcy has historically been a demand of the socialist movement as a means to save jobs and ensure the provision of needed services.” The ISO would be more honest if it said that this has historically been a demand of social democrats who seek to tinker with and administer the capitalist state. Such nationalizations amount to nothing more than giving failing enterprises a new lease on life. The nationalization of the losers of capitalist competition has nothing in common with the socialist expropriation of the means of production by a workers government. Taking over and subsidizing bankrupt firms to “save jobs” was for many years a standard practice of British Labour Party governments by which they sought to promote the interests of British imperialism.
As our comrades in the Spartacist League/Britain observed in “New Labour Fleeces Working People” (Workers Hammer No. 205, Winter 2008-09): “In the context of British imperialism’s loss of hegemonic power, the nationalisations of coal, steel and other industries by the [post-World War II] Clement Attlee Labour government were in reality giant capitalist bailouts designed to help British capitalism to compete in the world market.” In competition with more efficient private firms, nationalized enterprises require massive subsidies financed by immiserating the working class through, for example, high taxation.
Polemicizing against reformist “socialists” who put forward nationalization schemes to rescue failing capitalist enterprises, Bolshevik leader Leon Trotsky declared:
“We can say to the miner, you wish nationalization. Yes, it is our slogan. It is only a question of conditions. If the national property is too burdened with debts against the former owners, your conditions can become worse than now. To base the whole proceedings upon a free agreement between the owners and the state signifies ruin of the workers. Now you must organize your own government in the state and expropriate them.”
—“Conversation on the Slogan ‘Workers and Farmers Government’,” Writings of Leon Trotsky, 1938-39
The program of the labor bureaucracy and its reformist tails—defined by what is “practical” under capitalism—has led to disaster for the working class. We Marxists put forward the revolutionary strategy offered by the Transitional Program, where Trotsky declared: “The question is one of guarding the proletariat from decay, demoralization, and ruin…. If capitalism is incapable of satisfying the demands inevitably arising from the calamities generated by itself, then let it perish.” The burning necessity is for a proletarian revolution to rip the productive wealth of society out of the hands of the greedy capitalist rulers and build a collectivized, planned economy where production is based on social need, not profit.
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