Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Lightnin' Hopkins Doing "Lonesome Road".
DVD/CD Reviews
This review has been used to cover several Lightning Hopkins CDs and a DVD review of an instructional film, "The Guitar Of Lightnin' Hopkins", directed and taught by Ernie Hopkins, Stephan Grossman Studio Workshop, 2004, on learning his guitar style. I might add that this film makes abundantly clear that learning Lightning's eccentric style is definitely not for beginners. Go to the Willie Dixon song book for that.
Lightnin'!, Lightning Hopkins, Arhoolie Records, 1993
Free Form Patterns, Lightning Hopkins, Fuel 2000 Records, 2003
Blue Lightning, Lightning Hopkins, Paula Records, 1995
Lightning Hopkins & The Blues Summit, Lightning Hopkins, Sonny Terry, Brownie McGhee, Big Joe Williams, EMI-Capitol Records, 2001
I have spilled plenty of ink in this space tracing the main line of the blues from its acoustic origins down in the plantation South up river through the way station of Memphis and then to the electric "Mecca of Chicago. Along the way I have occasionally mentioned some of the other branches of the blues line like the North Carolina pick. I have not spent nearly enough time on some of the other important branches of the blues expansion, especially in the post World II period such as the West Coast blues and, as will be noted here, Texas blues.
If the blues is synonymous with the black struggle to get by day to day, to make ends meet and to make it to Saturday night and some relieve then the very big locale of Texas and its harsh hard scrabble life and strict Jim Crow laws hardly seems out of place as a key blues outpost. From the days, in the 1920's and 1930's, of Blind Lemon Jefferson working the streets of rural small town Texas, cup in hand, up to the artist under review, Lightning Hopkins, working the small black clubs and "juke joints" of the cities (like Houston) and beyond to the sounds of blues revivalists like Stevie Ray Vaughn and his brother there has been more than enough misery to create a separate Texas blues tradition.
Moreover, Brother Hopkins brings a distinctive guitar pick of his own to the "dance". He is famous, above all, for what is called the E shuffle sound as he works the guitar to create a sound that is a little "happier" than the forlorn one of the Delta or the "amped up" one of Chicago. I, unfortunately, did not get a chance to hears Lightning live until late in his career in the early 1970's when he had lost a little of his fine-toned edge. One can recapture some of that though through some of these earlier recordings from a tie when he was in full blown Lightning form. Listen up if you want to learn a different way to run a guitar from that of Muddy Waters, Bukka White, B.B. King or, for that matter, Eric Clapton
Needless to say Lightning had covered most of the known blues classics of his time as well as his own material. The borderlines of what is one's own material and what one has reworked from the blues pool is not always clear but you need to hear, for starters, "Mojo Hand", "Hello Central", "Little Girl" and "Rock Me Baby" to get a feel for his sound. Add on such classics as "Wig Wearing Woman", "Lonesome Dog Blues" (with an eerie dog bark included free), "Back Door Friend" and you are ready to become an aficionado. Throw in the talking blues-styled "Mr. Charlie", "Baby Child" and "Cooking Done" for good measure. Finally, team up Lightning with the likes of Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee and the amazing Big Joe Williams (especially on Hopkins' "Ain't Nothing Like Whiskey" and "Chain Gang Blues") at the famous 1960"blues summit" and you are ready for the graduate course.
Blues Lyrics - Lightnin' Hopkins
Back Door Friend
What you gonna do with a woman, yeah, when she got a
back do' friend
What are you gonna do with a woman, yes, when she got a back do' friend?
She just prayin' for you to move out, so her back do' friend can move in
Yes, it's hard to love a woman, yes, you know she got a back do' friend
Yes, it's hard to love a woman, oh Lord, yes, you know she got a back do' friend
Yes, when she prayin' for you to move out, so her back do' friend can move in
Yeah, you know I bought that woman a diamond ring, I thought that she would change
I went home one morn' and I caught her doin', whoa, that same old thing
Now what you gonna do with a mad woman, oh, when she got a back do' friend
When she prayin' all the time for you to move out, so her back do' friend, he can move in
__________
Note: this song is also known under the title "Letter To My (Back Door Friend)" on Charly Blues Masterworks Vol. 8, recording of 1963, Houston
Blues Lyrics - Lightnin' Hopkins
Coffee Blues
Mama got mad at papa 'cause he didn't bring no coffee home
Mama got mad at papa 'cause he didn't bring no coffee home
She begin to wonder what is going on wrong
Papa said, "Mama, I ain't mad with you, now, don't you get mad with me
Baby, I ain't mad with you, now, don't you get mad with me"
Papa must have been teasing mama 'cause she said, "I ain't mad with you"
Papa must have been teasing mama 'cause she said, "I ain't mad with you"
She said, "Everything's all right; don't make no difference what you do"
(Spoken: You know papa got good with mama somehow)
And I was crying for bread, and yes, I,
baby, I was crying for bread; and these are the words I said
(Spoken: Now look at mama, just trying to shout)
It was early one evening but papa came home late at night
It was early one evening but papa came home late at night
That's when mama was mad and her and papa began to fight
Blues Lyrics - Lightnin' Hopkins
Little School Girl
Little school girl,
let me tote
your books to school today
Please, little school girl,
let me tote your books to school today
She said, "I says you's a bad boy,
mama said please keep you away"
(spoken: That's what she said about Lightnin')
Mama want to know what you're doin',
yes, after you get out of her sight
She said "If I let you tote my books,
still I know, Sam, that ain't right"
When I get back home with my mother and dad,
that's where I might have a fight
I told the school teacher,
little school girl carryin' too heavy a load
Yes, I told that school teacher,
little girl was carryin' too heavy a load
She say, "You better get your big, bare feets,
Lightnin', make it down the road"
(spoken: That little school girl was all right in her place,
but she got me, so I walked away and I say...)
Good mornin', little school girl,
how have you been today?
Good mornin' little school girl,
how have you been today?
I say I'll tote your books, I'll tote your books,
darlin', 'cause you are goin' my way
__________
Note 1: tote, to carry by hand.
Blues Lyrics - Lightnin' Hopkins
One Kind Favor I Ask Of You
There's one kind favor I'll ask of you
There's one kind favor I'll ask of you
There's one kind favor I'll ask of you
See that my love will come thru
I was down last night on my bended knee
I was down last night on my bended knee
I was down last night on my bended knee
No people in the world seems to care for me
That's all I know darlin' what to do
That's all I know darlin' what to do
That's all I know darlin' what to do
I wouldn't be here worryin' if it hadn't been for you
Wish I had-a died when I was young
Wish I had-a died when I was young
Wish I had-a died when I was young
Wouldn't be here today with my head hung
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
*Bob Dylan's Bootleg Legacy- "To Be Young Was Very Heaven"- The 1964 Concert At The Philharmonic Hall
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan Doing "Gates Of Eden".
CD REVIEW
The 1964 Dylan At The Philharmonic Concert, Bootleg Series Volume 6, Sony Records, 2004
As of late I have been railing against various secondary Bob Dylan materials that are mainly of historical interest. In those cases I was describing my reactions to a two-disc set "The Basement Tapes" of about twenty songs and another five volume set entitled "The `Genuine" Basement Tapes of about one hundred songs both done with The Band in 1967 while he was "hiding" out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident. I dubbed both items as strictly for aficionados. I also noted that I was less than enamored of the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd 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 mainline albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, moreover, somehow left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material in one's collection. Having said that, I am now have to eat a little crow and recommend one bootleg volume that is a notch above the others- the famous October 1964 Philharmonic Concert.
Of course this concert falls into the above-mentioned categories of being for aficionados and music historians. But this one also, unlike some others in these series, gives a glance at what Bob Dylan was like as a performer as he was rising to the top of the folk world before the old electric/acoustic controversy fouled the air. I would draw the reader's attention to a sharp contrast between carefree, light-hearted stage presence and response to his audience here and the later 1966 Prince Albert Royal Hall Concert (Bootleg Volume 4) where he is on the defensive with his British audience and at the end of it practically ignores that audience as a result of their negative response to his going `electric'. I would also note the distant and mumbled answers of his interview style noted in Martin Scorsese's documentary "No Direction Home" of a few years ago. Here, though add his duos on Disc Two with his `paramour', folk queen Joan Baez, and the mixture is practically irresistible.
Again, virtually all the material in this set is available in more polished and technically proficient studio performances and if one has to choose, or is a Dylan rookie, then that is the place to look for his copies of his work. However, for those of us who are aficionados (Hey, I never said I wasn't, did I?) then here are some things to look for: "Gates Of Eden"; "Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall"; "It All Right, Mama" (remember that classic line "even the President must sometimes have to stand naked" as we enter the Obamian `new age'); and "Mr. Tambourine Man". Some of the more topical songs of the time (part of the true folk tradition and what keeps this genre moving forward) like "Talking World War III Blues" and "John Birch Blues" will require a translator or a click to Wikipedia to 'get' the references in those pieces. So do a little homework. That's okay here.
BALLAD OF HOLLIS BROWN
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
With his wife and five children
And his cabin fallin' down
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
Your children are so hungry
That they don't know how to smile
Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
If there's anyone that knows
Is there anyone that cares?
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
Your empty pockets tell yuh
That you ain't a-got no friend
Your babies are crying louder
It's pounding on your brain
Your babies are crying louder now
It's pounding on your brain
Your wife's screams are stabbin' you
Like the dirty drivin' rain
Your grass it is turning black
There's no water in your well
Your grass is turning black
There's no water in your well
You spent your last lone dollar
On seven shotgun shells
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Your eyes fix on the shotgun
That's hangin' on the wall
Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your eyes fix on the shotgun
That you're holdin' in your hand
There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
Seven shots ring out
Like the ocean's pounding roar
There's seven people dead
On a South Dakota farm
There's seven people dead
On a South Dakota farm
Somewhere in the distance
There's seven new people born
DON'T THINK TWICE, IT'S ALL RIGHT
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don't matter, anyhow
An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don't know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I'll be gone
You're the reason I'm trav'lin' on
Don't think twice, it's all right
It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
An' it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road
Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin' anyway
So don't think twice, it's all right
It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
Like you never did before
It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
I can't hear you any more
I'm a-thinkin' and a-wond'rin' all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's all right
I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
But goodbye's too good a word, gal
So I'll just say fare thee well
I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right
GATES OF EDEN
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
Of war and peace the truth just twists
Its curfew gull just glides
Upon four-legged forest clouds
The cowboy angel rides
With his candle lit into the sun
Though its glow is waxed in black
All except when 'neath the trees of Eden
The lamppost stands with folded arms
Its iron claws attached
To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail
Though it shadows metal badge
All and all can only fall
With a crashing but meaningless blow
No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden
The savage soldier sticks his head in sand
And then complains
Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf
But still remains
Upon the beach where hound dogs bay
At ships with tattooed sails
Heading for the Gates of Eden
With a time-rusted compass blade
Aladdin and his lamp
Sits with Utopian hermit monks
Side saddle on the Golden Calf
And on their promises of paradise
You will not hear a laugh
All except inside the Gates of Eden
Relationships of ownership
They whisper in the wings
To those condemned to act accordingly
And wait for succeeding kings
And I try to harmonize with songs
The lonesome sparrow sings
There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden
The motorcycle black madonna
Two-wheeled gypsy queen
And her silver-studded phantom cause
The gray flannel dwarf to scream
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey
Who pick up on his bread crumb sins
And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden
The kingdoms of Experience
In the precious wind they rot
While paupers change possessions
Each one wishing for what the other has got
And the princess and the prince
Discuss what's real and what is not
It doesn't matter inside the Gates of Eden
The foreign sun, it squints upon
A bed that is never mine
As friends and other strangers
From their fates try to resign
Leaving men wholly, totally free
To do anything they wish to do but die
And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden
At dawn my lover comes to me
And tells me of her dreams
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means
At times I think there are no words
But these to tell what's true
And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden
A HARD RAIN'S A-GONNA FALL
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it,
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
TALKIN' JOHN BIRCH PARANOID BLUES
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1970, 1973 Special Rider Music
Well, I was feelin' sad and feelin' blue,
I didn't know what in the world I was gonna do,
Them Communists they wus comin' around,
They wus in the air,
They wus on the ground.
They wouldn't gimme no peace. . .
So I run down most hurriedly
And joined up with the John Birch Society,
I got me a secret membership card
And started off a-walkin' down the road.
Yee-hoo, I'm a real John Bircher now!
Look out you Commies!
Now we all agree with Hitlers' views,
Although he killed six million Jews.
It don't matter too much that he was a Fascist,
At least you can't say he was a Communist!
That's to say like if you got a cold you take a shot of malaria.
Well, I wus lookin' everywhere for them gol-darned Reds.
I got up in the mornin' 'n' looked under my bed,
Looked in the sink, behind the door,
Looked in the glove compartment of my car.
Couldn't find 'em . . .
I wus lookin' high an' low for them Reds everywhere,
I wus lookin' in the sink an' underneath the chair.
I looked way up my chimney hole,
I even looked deep inside my toilet bowl.
They got away . . .
Well, I wus sittin' home alone an' started to sweat,
Figured they wus in my T.V. set.
Peeked behind the picture frame,
Got a shock from my feet, hittin' right up in the brain.
Them Reds caused it!
I know they did . . . them hard-core ones.
Well, I quit my job so I could work alone,
Then I changed my name to Sherlock Holmes.
Followed some clues from my detective bag
And discovered they wus red stripes on the American flag!
That ol' Betty Ross . . .
Well, I investigated all the books in the library,
Ninety percent of 'em gotta be burned away.
I investigated all the people that I knowed,
Ninety-eight percent of them gotta go.
The other two percent are fellow Birchers . . . just like me.
Now Eisenhower, he's a Russian spy,
Lincoln, Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy.
To my knowledge there's just one man
That's really a true American: George Lincoln Rockwell.
I know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus.
Well, I fin'ly started thinkin' straight
When I run outa things to investigate.
Couldn't imagine doin' anything else,
So now I'm sittin' home investigatin' myself!
Hope I don't find out anything . . . hmm, great God!
TALKIN' WORLD WAR III BLUES
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963, 1966 Warner Bros Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Some time ago a crazy dream came to me,
I dreamt I was walkin' into World War Three,
I went to the doctor the very next day
To see what kinda words he could say.
He said it was a bad dream.
I wouldn't worry 'bout it none, though,
They were my own dreams and they're only in my head.
I said, "Hold it, Doc, a World War passed through my brain."
He said, "Nurse, get your pad, this boy's insane,"
He grabbed my arm, I said "Ouch!"
As I landed on the psychiatric couch,
He said, "Tell me about it."
Well, the whole thing started at 3 o'clock fast,
It was all over by quarter past.
I was down in the sewer with some little lover
When I peeked out from a manhole cover
Wondering who turned the lights on.
Well, I got up and walked around
And up and down the lonesome town.
I stood a-wondering which way to go,
I lit a cigarette on a parking meter
And walked on down the road.
It was a normal day.
Well, I rung the fallout shelter bell
And I leaned my head and I gave a yell,
"Give me a string bean, I'm a hungry man."
A shotgun fired and away I ran.
I don't blame them too much though,
I know I look funny.
Down at the corner by a hot-dog stand
I seen a man, I said, "Howdy friend,
I guess there's just us two."
He screamed a bit and away he flew.
Thought I was a Communist.
Well, I spied a girl and before she could leave,
"Let's go and play Adam and Eve."
I took her by the hand and my heart it was thumpin'
When she said, "Hey man, you crazy or sumpin',
You see what happened last time they started."
Well, I seen a Cadillac window uptown
And there was nobody aroun',
I got into the driver's seat
And I drove down 42nd Street
In my Cadillac.
Good car to drive after a war.
Well, I remember seein' some ad,
So I turned on my Conelrad.
But I didn't pay my Con Ed bill,
So the radio didn't work so well.
Turned on my record playerÑ
It was Rock-A-Day, Johnny singin',
"Tell Your Ma, Tell Your Pa,
Our Loves Are Gonna Grow Ooh-wah, Ooh-wah."
I was feelin' kinda lonesome and blue,
I needed somebody to talk to.
So I called up the operator of time
Just to hear a voice of some kind.
"When you hear the beep
It will be three o'clock,"
She said that for over an hour
And I hung it up.
Well, the doctor interrupted me just about then,
Sayin, "Hey I've been havin' the same old dreams,
But mine was a little different you see.
I dreamt that the only person left after the war was me.
I didn't see you around."
Well, now time passed and now it seems
Everybody's having them dreams.
Everybody sees themselves walkin' around with no one else.
Half of the people can be part right all of the time,
Some of the people can be all right part of the time.
But all of the people canÕt be right all of the time.
I think Abraham Lincoln said that.
"I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours,"
I said that.
CD REVIEW
The 1964 Dylan At The Philharmonic Concert, Bootleg Series Volume 6, Sony Records, 2004
As of late I have been railing against various secondary Bob Dylan materials that are mainly of historical interest. In those cases I was describing my reactions to a two-disc set "The Basement Tapes" of about twenty songs and another five volume set entitled "The `Genuine" Basement Tapes of about one hundred songs both done with The Band in 1967 while he was "hiding" out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident. I dubbed both items as strictly for aficionados. I also noted that I was less than enamored of the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd 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 mainline albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, moreover, somehow left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material in one's collection. Having said that, I am now have to eat a little crow and recommend one bootleg volume that is a notch above the others- the famous October 1964 Philharmonic Concert.
Of course this concert falls into the above-mentioned categories of being for aficionados and music historians. But this one also, unlike some others in these series, gives a glance at what Bob Dylan was like as a performer as he was rising to the top of the folk world before the old electric/acoustic controversy fouled the air. I would draw the reader's attention to a sharp contrast between carefree, light-hearted stage presence and response to his audience here and the later 1966 Prince Albert Royal Hall Concert (Bootleg Volume 4) where he is on the defensive with his British audience and at the end of it practically ignores that audience as a result of their negative response to his going `electric'. I would also note the distant and mumbled answers of his interview style noted in Martin Scorsese's documentary "No Direction Home" of a few years ago. Here, though add his duos on Disc Two with his `paramour', folk queen Joan Baez, and the mixture is practically irresistible.
Again, virtually all the material in this set is available in more polished and technically proficient studio performances and if one has to choose, or is a Dylan rookie, then that is the place to look for his copies of his work. However, for those of us who are aficionados (Hey, I never said I wasn't, did I?) then here are some things to look for: "Gates Of Eden"; "Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall"; "It All Right, Mama" (remember that classic line "even the President must sometimes have to stand naked" as we enter the Obamian `new age'); and "Mr. Tambourine Man". Some of the more topical songs of the time (part of the true folk tradition and what keeps this genre moving forward) like "Talking World War III Blues" and "John Birch Blues" will require a translator or a click to Wikipedia to 'get' the references in those pieces. So do a little homework. That's okay here.
BALLAD OF HOLLIS BROWN
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
With his wife and five children
And his cabin fallin' down
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
Your children are so hungry
That they don't know how to smile
Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
If there's anyone that knows
Is there anyone that cares?
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
Your empty pockets tell yuh
That you ain't a-got no friend
Your babies are crying louder
It's pounding on your brain
Your babies are crying louder now
It's pounding on your brain
Your wife's screams are stabbin' you
Like the dirty drivin' rain
Your grass it is turning black
There's no water in your well
Your grass is turning black
There's no water in your well
You spent your last lone dollar
On seven shotgun shells
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Your eyes fix on the shotgun
That's hangin' on the wall
Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your eyes fix on the shotgun
That you're holdin' in your hand
There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
Seven shots ring out
Like the ocean's pounding roar
There's seven people dead
On a South Dakota farm
There's seven people dead
On a South Dakota farm
Somewhere in the distance
There's seven new people born
DON'T THINK TWICE, IT'S ALL RIGHT
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don't matter, anyhow
An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don't know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I'll be gone
You're the reason I'm trav'lin' on
Don't think twice, it's all right
It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
An' it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road
Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin' anyway
So don't think twice, it's all right
It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
Like you never did before
It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
I can't hear you any more
I'm a-thinkin' and a-wond'rin' all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's all right
I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
But goodbye's too good a word, gal
So I'll just say fare thee well
I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right
GATES OF EDEN
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
Of war and peace the truth just twists
Its curfew gull just glides
Upon four-legged forest clouds
The cowboy angel rides
With his candle lit into the sun
Though its glow is waxed in black
All except when 'neath the trees of Eden
The lamppost stands with folded arms
Its iron claws attached
To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail
Though it shadows metal badge
All and all can only fall
With a crashing but meaningless blow
No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden
The savage soldier sticks his head in sand
And then complains
Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf
But still remains
Upon the beach where hound dogs bay
At ships with tattooed sails
Heading for the Gates of Eden
With a time-rusted compass blade
Aladdin and his lamp
Sits with Utopian hermit monks
Side saddle on the Golden Calf
And on their promises of paradise
You will not hear a laugh
All except inside the Gates of Eden
Relationships of ownership
They whisper in the wings
To those condemned to act accordingly
And wait for succeeding kings
And I try to harmonize with songs
The lonesome sparrow sings
There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden
The motorcycle black madonna
Two-wheeled gypsy queen
And her silver-studded phantom cause
The gray flannel dwarf to scream
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey
Who pick up on his bread crumb sins
And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden
The kingdoms of Experience
In the precious wind they rot
While paupers change possessions
Each one wishing for what the other has got
And the princess and the prince
Discuss what's real and what is not
It doesn't matter inside the Gates of Eden
The foreign sun, it squints upon
A bed that is never mine
As friends and other strangers
From their fates try to resign
Leaving men wholly, totally free
To do anything they wish to do but die
And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden
At dawn my lover comes to me
And tells me of her dreams
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means
At times I think there are no words
But these to tell what's true
And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden
A HARD RAIN'S A-GONNA FALL
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it,
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
TALKIN' JOHN BIRCH PARANOID BLUES
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1970, 1973 Special Rider Music
Well, I was feelin' sad and feelin' blue,
I didn't know what in the world I was gonna do,
Them Communists they wus comin' around,
They wus in the air,
They wus on the ground.
They wouldn't gimme no peace. . .
So I run down most hurriedly
And joined up with the John Birch Society,
I got me a secret membership card
And started off a-walkin' down the road.
Yee-hoo, I'm a real John Bircher now!
Look out you Commies!
Now we all agree with Hitlers' views,
Although he killed six million Jews.
It don't matter too much that he was a Fascist,
At least you can't say he was a Communist!
That's to say like if you got a cold you take a shot of malaria.
Well, I wus lookin' everywhere for them gol-darned Reds.
I got up in the mornin' 'n' looked under my bed,
Looked in the sink, behind the door,
Looked in the glove compartment of my car.
Couldn't find 'em . . .
I wus lookin' high an' low for them Reds everywhere,
I wus lookin' in the sink an' underneath the chair.
I looked way up my chimney hole,
I even looked deep inside my toilet bowl.
They got away . . .
Well, I wus sittin' home alone an' started to sweat,
Figured they wus in my T.V. set.
Peeked behind the picture frame,
Got a shock from my feet, hittin' right up in the brain.
Them Reds caused it!
I know they did . . . them hard-core ones.
Well, I quit my job so I could work alone,
Then I changed my name to Sherlock Holmes.
Followed some clues from my detective bag
And discovered they wus red stripes on the American flag!
That ol' Betty Ross . . .
Well, I investigated all the books in the library,
Ninety percent of 'em gotta be burned away.
I investigated all the people that I knowed,
Ninety-eight percent of them gotta go.
The other two percent are fellow Birchers . . . just like me.
Now Eisenhower, he's a Russian spy,
Lincoln, Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy.
To my knowledge there's just one man
That's really a true American: George Lincoln Rockwell.
I know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus.
Well, I fin'ly started thinkin' straight
When I run outa things to investigate.
Couldn't imagine doin' anything else,
So now I'm sittin' home investigatin' myself!
Hope I don't find out anything . . . hmm, great God!
TALKIN' WORLD WAR III BLUES
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963, 1966 Warner Bros Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Some time ago a crazy dream came to me,
I dreamt I was walkin' into World War Three,
I went to the doctor the very next day
To see what kinda words he could say.
He said it was a bad dream.
I wouldn't worry 'bout it none, though,
They were my own dreams and they're only in my head.
I said, "Hold it, Doc, a World War passed through my brain."
He said, "Nurse, get your pad, this boy's insane,"
He grabbed my arm, I said "Ouch!"
As I landed on the psychiatric couch,
He said, "Tell me about it."
Well, the whole thing started at 3 o'clock fast,
It was all over by quarter past.
I was down in the sewer with some little lover
When I peeked out from a manhole cover
Wondering who turned the lights on.
Well, I got up and walked around
And up and down the lonesome town.
I stood a-wondering which way to go,
I lit a cigarette on a parking meter
And walked on down the road.
It was a normal day.
Well, I rung the fallout shelter bell
And I leaned my head and I gave a yell,
"Give me a string bean, I'm a hungry man."
A shotgun fired and away I ran.
I don't blame them too much though,
I know I look funny.
Down at the corner by a hot-dog stand
I seen a man, I said, "Howdy friend,
I guess there's just us two."
He screamed a bit and away he flew.
Thought I was a Communist.
Well, I spied a girl and before she could leave,
"Let's go and play Adam and Eve."
I took her by the hand and my heart it was thumpin'
When she said, "Hey man, you crazy or sumpin',
You see what happened last time they started."
Well, I seen a Cadillac window uptown
And there was nobody aroun',
I got into the driver's seat
And I drove down 42nd Street
In my Cadillac.
Good car to drive after a war.
Well, I remember seein' some ad,
So I turned on my Conelrad.
But I didn't pay my Con Ed bill,
So the radio didn't work so well.
Turned on my record playerÑ
It was Rock-A-Day, Johnny singin',
"Tell Your Ma, Tell Your Pa,
Our Loves Are Gonna Grow Ooh-wah, Ooh-wah."
I was feelin' kinda lonesome and blue,
I needed somebody to talk to.
So I called up the operator of time
Just to hear a voice of some kind.
"When you hear the beep
It will be three o'clock,"
She said that for over an hour
And I hung it up.
Well, the doctor interrupted me just about then,
Sayin, "Hey I've been havin' the same old dreams,
But mine was a little different you see.
I dreamt that the only person left after the war was me.
I didn't see you around."
Well, now time passed and now it seems
Everybody's having them dreams.
Everybody sees themselves walkin' around with no one else.
Half of the people can be part right all of the time,
Some of the people can be all right part of the time.
But all of the people canÕt be right all of the time.
I think Abraham Lincoln said that.
"I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours,"
I said that.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
*The Struggle In Iran 2009- The View Of The Internationalist Group
Click on title for a leftist perspective on the situation in Iran in the aftermath of the "elections" there from the Internationalist Group.
Markin comment:
The article is placed here for informational purposes as I am not that familiar with the politics of the group (other than that it split from the International Communist League a number of years ago). This article makes several interesting points. The most important, thirty years after the overthrow of the Shah in 1979, is that leftists can give no political support to any of the various religious factions in Iran. A whole generation of Iranian leftists and working class militants paid with their lives and their blood for that serious mistake in the struggle against the Shah. Learn the lessons of history, damn it.
Markin comment:
The article is placed here for informational purposes as I am not that familiar with the politics of the group (other than that it split from the International Communist League a number of years ago). This article makes several interesting points. The most important, thirty years after the overthrow of the Shah in 1979, is that leftists can give no political support to any of the various religious factions in Iran. A whole generation of Iranian leftists and working class militants paid with their lives and their blood for that serious mistake in the struggle against the Shah. Learn the lessons of history, damn it.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
*Poet's Corner- Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night"
Click On Title To Link To Dylan Thomas' Web Page.
Guest Commentary
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London
Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness
And I must enter again the round
Zion of the water bead
And the synagogue of the ear of corn
Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
Or sow my salt seed
In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn
The majesty and burning of the child's death.
I shall not murder
The mankind of her going with a grave truth
Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath
With any further
Elegy of innocence and youth.
Deep with the first dead lies London's daughter,
Robed in the long friends,
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,
Secret by the unmourning water
Of the riding Thames.
After the first death, there is no other.
In My Craft Or Sullen Art
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art
Guest Commentary
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London
Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness
And I must enter again the round
Zion of the water bead
And the synagogue of the ear of corn
Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
Or sow my salt seed
In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn
The majesty and burning of the child's death.
I shall not murder
The mankind of her going with a grave truth
Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath
With any further
Elegy of innocence and youth.
Deep with the first dead lies London's daughter,
Robed in the long friends,
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,
Secret by the unmourning water
Of the riding Thames.
After the first death, there is no other.
In My Craft Or Sullen Art
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art
Monday, June 22, 2009
*The Way Forward In Iran- A Guest Commentary By Alan Woods
Click On Title To Link To Alan Wood's Guest Commentary On The Situation In Iran That I Thought May Be Of Interest To The Radical (And Progressive) Public. Some Points I Would Agree With, Others Not. One Thing Is Sure. We Have To Defend Those Who Today Are Fighting On The Streets Against The Mullahs. This Seems To Be The Dividing Line (Fight Or Conciliate With The Mullahs) Between The Murkily Defined Factions That Are Emerging From The Opposition.
* Studs Terkel Potpourri
Click On Title To Link To Studs Terkel's Web Site.
BOOK REVIEW
My American Century, Studs Terkel, The New Press, New York, 1997
As I have done on other occasions when I am reviewing more than one work by an author I am using some of the same comments, where they are pertinent, here as I did in earlier reviews. In this series the first Studs Terkel book reviewed was that of his “The Good War”: an Oral History of World War II".
Strangely, as I found out about the recent death of long time pro-working class journalist and general truth-teller "Studs" Terkel I was just beginning to read his "The Good War", about the lives and experiences of, mainly, ordinary people during World War II in America and elsewhere, for review in this space. As with other authors once I get started I tend to like to review several works that are relevant to see where their work goes. I have thus read and reviewed individually the six oral histories that make up this book elsewhere. In the present case My Century serves rather nicely to put in one place the best of Terkel’s interviews, or at lest the ones of continuing interest. Thus from the approximately one thousand interviews that have seen the light of day in those six books here we have about fifty to marvel at again.
As part of my reflecting what to write for this review I was struck by the range of subjects, although in some places tied together and repeated, that interested Studs. Most famously, that of the what makes people tick and get out of bed each day of “Working”; the strong sense of social solidarity that binds those who fought World War II in “The Good War”; that same sense of solidarity and grit for those who survived the Great Depression in” Hard Times”; the unstated but ever present sense of class that animates “Division Street”; the not so unstated sense of race that clouds the fight for a just society in “Race”; and, the sense of longing and lost of his fellow survivors of the Depression and World War II expressed in “Coming Of Age”. What a mix and what a masterful job of having the ear and eye to put it together.
As always, the one thing that I noticed immediately after reading this book, and as is true of the majority of Terkel’s interview books, is that he is not the dominant presence but is a rather light, if intensely interested, interloper in these stories. For better or worse the interviewees get to tell their stories, unchained. In this age of 24/7 media coverage with every half-baked journalist or wannabe interjecting his or her personality into somebody else’s story this was, and is, rather refreshing. Of course this journalistic virtue does not mean that Studs did not have control over who got to tell their stories and who didn’t to fit his preoccupations and sense of order. He has a point he wants to make and that is that although most “ordinary” people do not make the history books they certainly make history, if not always of their own accord or to their own liking. Again, kudos and adieu Studs.
BOOK REVIEW
My American Century, Studs Terkel, The New Press, New York, 1997
As I have done on other occasions when I am reviewing more than one work by an author I am using some of the same comments, where they are pertinent, here as I did in earlier reviews. In this series the first Studs Terkel book reviewed was that of his “The Good War”: an Oral History of World War II".
Strangely, as I found out about the recent death of long time pro-working class journalist and general truth-teller "Studs" Terkel I was just beginning to read his "The Good War", about the lives and experiences of, mainly, ordinary people during World War II in America and elsewhere, for review in this space. As with other authors once I get started I tend to like to review several works that are relevant to see where their work goes. I have thus read and reviewed individually the six oral histories that make up this book elsewhere. In the present case My Century serves rather nicely to put in one place the best of Terkel’s interviews, or at lest the ones of continuing interest. Thus from the approximately one thousand interviews that have seen the light of day in those six books here we have about fifty to marvel at again.
As part of my reflecting what to write for this review I was struck by the range of subjects, although in some places tied together and repeated, that interested Studs. Most famously, that of the what makes people tick and get out of bed each day of “Working”; the strong sense of social solidarity that binds those who fought World War II in “The Good War”; that same sense of solidarity and grit for those who survived the Great Depression in” Hard Times”; the unstated but ever present sense of class that animates “Division Street”; the not so unstated sense of race that clouds the fight for a just society in “Race”; and, the sense of longing and lost of his fellow survivors of the Depression and World War II expressed in “Coming Of Age”. What a mix and what a masterful job of having the ear and eye to put it together.
As always, the one thing that I noticed immediately after reading this book, and as is true of the majority of Terkel’s interview books, is that he is not the dominant presence but is a rather light, if intensely interested, interloper in these stories. For better or worse the interviewees get to tell their stories, unchained. In this age of 24/7 media coverage with every half-baked journalist or wannabe interjecting his or her personality into somebody else’s story this was, and is, rather refreshing. Of course this journalistic virtue does not mean that Studs did not have control over who got to tell their stories and who didn’t to fit his preoccupations and sense of order. He has a point he wants to make and that is that although most “ordinary” people do not make the history books they certainly make history, if not always of their own accord or to their own liking. Again, kudos and adieu Studs.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
*Defend The Iranian Demonstrators- Thirty Years Is Enough-Down With The Mullahs
Click On Title To Link To Associated Press Article, Dated June 20, 2009, Concerning The Continuing Demonstrations Against The Allegedly Fraudulent Recent Electoral Results In The Iranian Presidential Elections.
Commentary
From this distance it is hard to tell exactly what the aims of the demonstrators are other than to change the electoral results in favor of their candidate, Mousavi. The question of bringing down the Islamic Republic, at least by the main factions and certainly by Mousavi's actions, does not appear to be a goal today. However, the information coming out of Tehran is confusing at best and, moreover, coming from sources of unknown reliability (for us, not for the traditional world media).
One thing is clear though. We defend these demonstrators against the batons of the Iranian state, its religious hierarchy and its military and para-military agents. To the extend that these demonstrators, at least some of them, are calling for an end to the Islamic Republic we support that demand. Back in 1979 we called, at least those of us who were fighting against the Western leftist and progressive camp's illusions in the mullahs then, for "Down With The Shah and Down With The Mullahs!" Today's cry is "Down With The Mullahs!". For a Socialist Iran as part of a regional socialist federation! More, much more on this as events unfold.
Commentary
From this distance it is hard to tell exactly what the aims of the demonstrators are other than to change the electoral results in favor of their candidate, Mousavi. The question of bringing down the Islamic Republic, at least by the main factions and certainly by Mousavi's actions, does not appear to be a goal today. However, the information coming out of Tehran is confusing at best and, moreover, coming from sources of unknown reliability (for us, not for the traditional world media).
One thing is clear though. We defend these demonstrators against the batons of the Iranian state, its religious hierarchy and its military and para-military agents. To the extend that these demonstrators, at least some of them, are calling for an end to the Islamic Republic we support that demand. Back in 1979 we called, at least those of us who were fighting against the Western leftist and progressive camp's illusions in the mullahs then, for "Down With The Shah and Down With The Mullahs!" Today's cry is "Down With The Mullahs!". For a Socialist Iran as part of a regional socialist federation! More, much more on this as events unfold.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
*The Bob Dylan Bootleg Legacy- "Genuine" And "Fake" Basement Tapes- "The Basement Tapes"
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan Doing "Tears Of Rage"
CD Review
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.
CD Review
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.
*The Bob Dylan Bootleg Legacy- "Genuine" And "Fake" Basement Tapes, Volume Five
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan Doing "Spanish Is The Loving Tongue"
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 Four
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.
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 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
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