Saturday, September 07, 2013

A British Guy From Texas, Okay- The Music of Doug Sahm-CD Review
 
 
 
YouTube film clip of Doug Sahm performing back in the day, his British invasion day.

CD Review

Dough Sahm: Juke Box Music, Doug Sahm, Antone’s Records, 1988

A British guy from Texas? Oh, ya, that. See one Doug Sahm, a mad monk, a Texas-bred mad monk, of musical talent wanted to ride the wave, the 1960s British invasion wave led by the Beatles that changed the face of rock and roll more than somewhat. Just like Elvis, Chuck and Jerry Lee did a generation before, a rock generation that is, and , strangely, brought blues, big heartland, butcher to the world, industrial city hard life electric blues via Chicago and Memphis and country harder life acoustic blues via the Delta cotton field broiling sun sweats and Saturday night no electricity jukes, mainly, back to America. So ride the wave, take the ride and pay for the ticket, to paraphrase the late gonzo journalist, Doctor Hunter S. Thompson a kindred, here comes none other than the Sir Douglas Quintet no less high and hard in the 1960s American post-invasion hip-hop night.

Well that bluesy rock minute passed but Doug Sahm’s attachment to music, to roots music, apparently never vanished as this CD testifies to in a big way. So back in Texas he made something of a legend for himself in the emerging Austin musical scene. And while I don’t know the all the particulars of the late Brother Sahm’s later career I know two things, well, actually three things. When Bob Dylan wanted to taste, musically taste, all things Texan, particularly that Tex-Mex roots sound that permeated some of his music during his “western outlaw” period (hey, maybe his whole career, at least in his mind) he slip-shot himself by Brother Sahm and they became fast friends.

And Dough Sahm was instrumental in preserving that Tex-Mex sound as it got preserved in old Antone’s, a blue club very closely associated with the blues in Texas and, well, that big heartland, butcher to the world, industrial city hard life electric blues Chicago too, as that storied (and chronicled, on film chronicled) barroom locale provided a final home for many of the Windy City blues greats as they fell on Maxwell Street hard times. And lastly, well lastly Brother Sahm KNEW, knew in his bones and deep in his musical soul, just like Dylan, the American songbook, the generation of ’68 section that he is paying tribute to on this album. Feast on.
 
A British Guy From Texas, Okay- The Music of Doug Sahm-CD Review
A YouTube film clip of Doug Sahm performing back in the day, his British invasion day.

CD Review

Dough Sahm: Juke Box Music, Doug Sahm, Antone’s Records, 1988

A British guy from Texas? Oh, ya, that. See one Doug Sahm, a mad monk, a Texas-bred mad monk, of musical talent wanted to ride the wave, the 1960s British invasion wave led by the Beatles that changed the face of rock and roll more than somewhat. Just like Elvis, Chuck and Jerry Lee did a generation before, a rock generation that is, and , strangely, brought blues, big heartland, butcher to the world, industrial city hard life electric blues via Chicago and Memphis and country harder life acoustic blues via the Delta cotton field broiling sun sweats and Saturday night no electricity jukes, mainly, back to America. So ride the wave, take the ride and pay for the ticket, to paraphrase the late gonzo journalist, Doctor Hunter S. Thompson a kindred, here comes none other than the Sir Douglas Quintet no less high and hard in the 1960s American post-invasion hip-hop night.

Well that bluesy rock minute passed but Doug Sahm’s attachment to music, to roots music, apparently never vanished as this CD testifies to in a big way. So back in Texas he made something of a legend for himself in the emerging Austin musical scene. And while I don’t know the all the particulars of the late Brother Sahm’s later career I know two things, well, actually three things. When Bob Dylan wanted to taste, musically taste, all things Texan, particularly that Tex-Mex roots sound that permeated some of his music during his “western outlaw” period (hey, maybe his whole career, at least in his mind) he slip-shot himself by Brother Sahm and they became fast friends.

And Dough Sahm was instrumental in preserving that Tex-Mex sound as it got preserved in old Antone’s, a blue club very closely associated with the blues in Texas and, well, that big heartland, butcher to the world, industrial city hard life electric blues Chicago too, as that storied (and chronicled, on film chronicled) barroom locale provided a final home for many of the Windy City blues greats as they fell on Maxwell Street hard times. And lastly, well lastly Brother Sahm KNEW, knew in his bones and deep in his musical soul, just like Dylan, the American songbook, the generation of ’68 section that he is paying tribute to on this album. Feast on.
Bob Dylan’s Royal Albert Hall Concert of 1966- You Do Need The Band To Play The Last Waltz


Click On Title To Link To A YouTube Film Clip Of Bob Dylan And The Band Performing Like A Rolling Stone.
CD REVIEW

Bob Dylan Live 1966: The Bootleg series, Volume 4, “The Royal Albert Hall” Concert, Bob Dylan and The Band, Columbia Records, 1966.

Of all the bootleg, genuine basement tapes, fake basement tapes, etc. that have come out of over the years detailing the career of the premier folk troubadour of his times, Bob Dylan, this volume that contains the bulk of the famous (or infamous, if you are one of those old folk traditionalists who never moved on) English "Royal Albert Hall" Concert of 1966 may be historically the most valuable. Certainly after Martin Scorsese used the concert as a central backdrop to his Dylan documentary "No Direction Home" the argument for its importance in the folk pantheon has been enhanced. The CD issued many years ago prior to Scorsese's effort only confirms that judgment.

Here, in a quick summary, is what the hullabaloo was all about. Many early 1960's folkies were looking for a new "king of the hill" to continue the tradition established by the likes of Woody Guthrie (an early Dylan hero, by the way) and Pete Seeger. Certainly off the first few years of Dylan's rise it looked to one and all, including this reviewer, that Dylan would fill the bill. Then, he switched gears and started to write more starkly personal songs (rather than quasi-political songs like "Blowing In The Wind") and, oh lord here it comes, to use the electric guitar as backup. And worst of all, an electric backup band (the now immortal The Band). You know, with drums and all. "Albert Hall" was one of the first major venues where he presented both concepts, acoustic and electric. The British traditionalists (or at least some of them) were not pleased. But as I have noted elsewhere in earlier reviews of Dylan's work everyone else should be glad, glad as hell, that he made that move.

Needless to say this concert is divided into an acoustic section where he plays some great numbers like "Visions Of Johanna", "Mr. Tambourine Man" and the like. His highlight here is "Desolation Row" an incredible almost surreal use of words and phrases that read more like a poem than a mere song. If I had not been a Dylan fan before this song then the first time I hear "They are selling postcards of the hanging. They are painting the passports brown. The beauty parlor is filled with sailors. The circus is in town" would have caught my attention for life right then and there.

The second, more controversial electric part includes the 1960's semi-national anthem for the counter cultural generation "Like A Rolling Stone" and a good literary companion piece to "Desolation Row" the very fine "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues.” Finally, as an extra bonus if you want to hear Dylan without the slurs that make understanding some of the lyrics in other albums hard this is one for you.

LIKE A ROLLING STONE

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


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?

DESOLATION ROW

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row

Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid

To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have Mercy on His Soul"
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row

Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They're spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words

And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get Outa Here If You Don't Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row"

Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row

JUST LIKE TOM THUMB'S BLUES

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


When you're lost in the rain in Juarez
And it's Eastertime too
And your gravity fails
And negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs
When you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there
And they really make a mess outa you

Now if you see Saint Annie
Please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move
My fingers are all in a knot
I don't have the strength
To get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my doctor
Won't even say what it is I've got

Sweet Melinda
The peasants call her the goddess of gloom
She speaks good English
And she invites you up into her room
And you're so kind
And careful not to go to her too soon
And she takes your voice
And leaves you howling at the moon

Up on Housing Project Hill
It's either fortune or fame
You must pick up one or the other
Though neither of them are to be what they claim
If you're lookin' to get silly
You better go back to from where you came
Because the cops don't need you
And man they expect the same

Now all the authorities
They just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms
Into leaving his post
And picking up Angel who
Just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left looking just like a ghost

I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to call my bluff
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough


BALLAD OF A THIN MAN

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason?"
And he says, "How?"
And you say, "What does this mean?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Bob Dylan’s Royal Albert Hall Concert of 1966- You Do Need The Band To Play The Last Waltz


Click On Title To Link To A YouTube Film Clip Of Bob Dylan And The Band Performing Like A Rolling Stone.
CD REVIEW

Bob Dylan Live 1966: The Bootleg series, Volume 4, “The Royal Albert Hall” Concert, Bob Dylan and The Band, Columbia Records, 1966.

Of all the bootleg, genuine basement tapes, fake basement tapes, etc. that have come out of over the years detailing the career of the premier folk troubadour of his times, Bob Dylan, this volume that contains the bulk of the famous (or infamous, if you are one of those old folk traditionalists who never moved on) English "Royal Albert Hall" Concert of 1966 may be historically the most valuable. Certainly after Martin Scorsese used the concert as a central backdrop to his Dylan documentary "No Direction Home" the argument for its importance in the folk pantheon has been enhanced. The CD issued many years ago prior to Scorsese's effort only confirms that judgment.

Here, in a quick summary, is what the hullabaloo was all about. Many early 1960's folkies were looking for a new "king of the hill" to continue the tradition established by the likes of Woody Guthrie (an early Dylan hero, by the way) and Pete Seeger. Certainly off the first few years of Dylan's rise it looked to one and all, including this reviewer, that Dylan would fill the bill. Then, he switched gears and started to write more starkly personal songs (rather than quasi-political songs like "Blowing In The Wind") and, oh lord here it comes, to use the electric guitar as backup. And worst of all, an electric backup band (the now immortal The Band). You know, with drums and all. "Albert Hall" was one of the first major venues where he presented both concepts, acoustic and electric. The British traditionalists (or at least some of them) were not pleased. But as I have noted elsewhere in earlier reviews of Dylan's work everyone else should be glad, glad as hell, that he made that move.

Needless to say this concert is divided into an acoustic section where he plays some great numbers like "Visions Of Johanna", "Mr. Tambourine Man" and the like. His highlight here is "Desolation Row" an incredible almost surreal use of words and phrases that read more like a poem than a mere song. If I had not been a Dylan fan before this song then the first time I hear "They are selling postcards of the hanging. They are painting the passports brown. The beauty parlor is filled with sailors. The circus is in town" would have caught my attention for life right then and there.

The second, more controversial electric part includes the 1960's semi-national anthem for the counter cultural generation "Like A Rolling Stone" and a good literary companion piece to "Desolation Row" the very fine "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues.” Finally, as an extra bonus if you want to hear Dylan without the slurs that make understanding some of the lyrics in other albums hard this is one for you.

LIKE A ROLLING STONE

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


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?

DESOLATION ROW

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row

Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid

To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have Mercy on His Soul"
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row

Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They're spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words

And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get Outa Here If You Don't Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row"

Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row

JUST LIKE TOM THUMB'S BLUES

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


When you're lost in the rain in Juarez
And it's Eastertime too
And your gravity fails
And negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs
When you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there
And they really make a mess outa you

Now if you see Saint Annie
Please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move
My fingers are all in a knot
I don't have the strength
To get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my doctor
Won't even say what it is I've got

Sweet Melinda
The peasants call her the goddess of gloom
She speaks good English
And she invites you up into her room
And you're so kind
And careful not to go to her too soon
And she takes your voice
And leaves you howling at the moon

Up on Housing Project Hill
It's either fortune or fame
You must pick up one or the other
Though neither of them are to be what they claim
If you're lookin' to get silly
You better go back to from where you came
Because the cops don't need you
And man they expect the same

Now all the authorities
They just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms
Into leaving his post
And picking up Angel who
Just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left looking just like a ghost

I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to call my bluff
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough


BALLAD OF A THIN MAN

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music


You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason?"
And he says, "How?"
And you say, "What does this mean?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Doin' His Midnight Creep- The Howlin' Wolf Story



DVD Review

The Howlin’ Wolf Story, Howlin’ Wolf and various artists and commentators, Productions, 2004

I have reviewed several of Howlin’Wolf’s CDs in this space previously and had expected that this documentary about the life, the times and the influence of this incredible blues performer would merely be an appetizer for further reviews of his music. Not so. This well-done, lovingly put together and extremely informative documentary is a worthy viewing for the novice and old Wolf aficionados like me. Thus, rather than placing this commentary as a tail to some other Wolf entry it is worthy of separate entry here.

In this presentation filled, as always in this kind of work, with the inevitable “talking heads” we go from Wolf‘s roots down in the Mississippi Delta, cotton country and nothing else, in the 1920’s and 1930’s through to the first stop up the Mississippi at Memphis on to the Mecca Chicago in the post- World War II period and finally to international renown in the blues revival started by the likes of The Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton in the mid-1960s. In short we are treated to a view of the trajectory of Wolf’s life, unlike let us say Son House with whom Wolf worked in the old days down South and who basically stuck with his country blues and gospel roots, from the country blues of the back road Saturday night jukes whiskey and women scene to the electricity of the urban ghetto that made those old blues jump for, at first, migratory urban blacks and then in the early 1960s young whites like this reviewer.

Along the way many of the musicians that worked with Wolf like Hubert Sumerlin, a blues guitarist legend in his own right, and Sam Lay as well as Wolf’s daughters, the Chess Record producer Marshall Chess and others give some amusing stories and anecdotes on the life of the great bluesman. And seemingly as always when blues or rock and roll are mentioned little segments with the ubiquitous Sam Phillips of the well-known Sun Recording studio in Memphis.

I do not generally comment on (or for that matter look at) the special features sections of DVD. Not doing so here would be a mistake. There is some nice home movie footage, some interesting Wolf stories by his companions and rivals, a nice segment on the rivalry between Wolf and Muddy Waters to be “King of The Chicago Blues” and a recording of a radio broadcast of Wolf doing "Little Red Rooster". Damn, I flipped out the first time I heard that song when it was covered by the Rolling Stones in the early 1960’s. I also flipped out when I first heard a Wolf recording of it. I don’t know what I would have done had I heard it on my radio then. Probably started hitchhiking for Chicago.

All of this information is nice but I am sure the reader is just as interested to know about the music. Oh yes there is some great footage of classic Wolf efforts. Of course for this reviewer number one is always Wolf’s "Little Red Rooster". Christ, he is practically eating the harmonica by the end of the song. "Lovin’ Spoonful", "Moaning at Midnight" and a host of other songs get their usual professional Wolf treatment. That is a point to be underscored, he was a professional in his approach to the music, its presentation and the way that he could influence a genre that he practically build (along with his competitor Muddy Waters) from scratch. If you need an hour of the Wolf doin’ his Midnight Creep then you really have to see this documentary. Kudos to the filmmakers on this one.


 
From The Marxist Archives -In Honor Of The 75th Anniversary Of The Founding Of The Leon Trotsky-Led Fourth International

Workers Vanguard No. 943
25 September 2009
TROTSKY
LENIN
Trotskyists and the Second World War
(Quote of the Week)
Bourgeois scribblers and reformist swindlers falsely assert that the Second World War, which began in September 1939, was a battle for “democracy against fascism.” In fact, World War II was driven by the same underlying economic impulse as the First World War: the struggle among the imperialist powers to seize new arenas of exploitation around the planet and to defend their existing ones. Against the tide of reactionary patriotism, Trotskyists carried out their internationalist duty to rally the proletariat in its own class interests: standing for the unconditional military defense of the Soviet Union, a workers state despite its Stalinist degeneration, and opposing all the imperialist combatants in that carnage—a position for which U.S. Trotskyists were imprisoned in 1941. We print below excerpts from a resolution adopted by the Eleventh Convention of the American Trotskyist movement in November 1944 that was originally printed in Fourth International, published by the then-revolutionary Socialist Workers Party.
When the United States entered the second World War, Roosevelt, chief spokesman of American capitalism proclaimed that this war was a crusade for democracy, for the “Four Freedoms,” for the destruction of fascism and totalitarianism. The labor bureaucrats, recruiting sergeants for the war machine, volunteered their services to sell the war as a conflict between “free labor” and “slave labor.”
After three years of America’s participation in the war, the demagogic slogans under which the people were dragooned into the slaughter have been stripped bare. Democracy and freedom are among the first casualties of the war. The slogans of “national unity” and “equality of sacrifice” are a snare. The pledges to take the profits out of war to prevent a new crop of wartime millionaires, are proved a monstrous hoax.
The capitalist government logically began its reactionary campaign by striking its first blows at the class-conscious vanguard of the American working class. On the very day war was declared, December 8, 1941, sentence was passed on the leaders of the Socialist Workers Party. They were convicted under the anti-labor Smith “Gag” Act for their uncompromising and outspoken opposition to the war program and because of their firm adherence to the principles of revolutionary Socialism. The conviction and imprisonment of the 18 was accompanied by a whole series of measures designed to throttle the unions and paralyze labor’s resistance to the onslaught of Big Business.
The right to strike, basic to the freedom of the labor movement, has been virtually outlawed. Workers have been frozen to their jobs at frozen wages while the cost of living continues to rise. A “modified” version of forced labor has been imposed by executive decree. An increasing weight of taxes is being saddled on those least able to pay while corporation profits soar to the highest levels in history.
The war immediately strengthened the most reactionary groups and institutions. The surge of reaction, especially the persecution of minorities and the spread of race-hatred, is a wartime continuation of tendencies inherent in capitalist decay. Brutal discrimination and humiliating segregation of the Negro people in the armed forces as well as in civilian life reduce the slogans of “democracy and freedom” to a hideous mockery for 13-million American citizens. The wave of anti-Semitism unloosed by capitalist reaction has already risen to alarming proportions. Jim Crowism and anti-Semitism march hand in hand with the assault against the organizations of the working class. This is the reality behind the demagogic facade of the “Four Freedoms.”
Prior to America’s entry into the war, this reactionary trend was analyzed and forecast in the Manifesto of the Fourth International on The Imperialist War and the Proletarian Revolution which stated:
“Seeking to gain the advantages of a totalitarian regime, the imperialist democracies launch their own defense with a redoubled drive against the working class and the persecution of revolutionary organizations. The war danger and now the war itself is utilized by them first and foremost to crush internal enemies. The bourgeoisie invariably and unswervingly follows the rule: ‘The main enemy is in one’s own country’.”
—“The U.S. and the Second World War,” Fourth International (January 1945)
**********

Manifesto of the Fourth International
For Defense of the Soviet Union

August 1941


Adopted: August 1941
First Published: October, 1941
Source: Fourth International, New York, Volume II No. 8, October 1941, pp. 229-31.
Author: Jean van Heijenoort (according to Robert Alexander’s History).
Transcribed/HTML Markup: Daniel Gaido and David Walters, December, 2005
Public Domain: Leon Trotsky Internet Archive 2005. You can freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit the Marxists Internet Archive as your source, include the address of this work, and note the transcribers and proofreaders above.

The following manifesto, issued by the Executive Committee of the Fourth International, is reprinted From the International Bulletin Press Service.
The Soviet Union is at war! The Soviet Union is in mortal danger! In his desperate struggle to open the world to German imperialism, Hitler has turned to the east, hoping by a quick victory to strengthen his military and economic positions. At this hour of supreme danger the Fourth International proclaims what it has constantly said to the workers: Defend the U. S. S. R.! The defense of the Soviet Union is the elementary duty of all the workers true to their class.
We know very well—better than anyone—that the present government of the U.S.S.R. is very different than the Soviet power of the first years of the revolution, but we have something to defend and we defend it against the class enemy independently of all the misdeeds of its present leaders. The Soviet workers accomplished a tremendous revolution which changed the face of a vast country. They stood alone, they lacked the forces to realize all their hopes, and they had to tolerate on their necks vile usurpers. But now Hitler comes to annihilate everything. That, neither the peoples of the U. S. S. R. nor the world working class can permit.
How to defend the U. S. S. R.? To answer this question we must before all know why the first workers’ state, the first experiment in proletarian power, stands at the edge of the abyss. If a catastrophe is possible at this date, after almost a quarter century of survival, the cause lies above all in the internal degeneration of the workers’ state, now ruled over by a parasitic bureaucracy.
Stalinism Responsible for the Catastrophe
A little more than twenty years ago, the Soviet Union came through the civil war, having victoriously repulsed the attacks of the imperialist brigands of the whole world. If today the Soviet Union has been plunged into the most terrible of wars, if today its very existence is threatened, the responsibility for its plight falls first and foremost upon Stalin. The second imperialist war and the attack against the Soviet Union could occur only after the revolutionary forces of the world proletariat, and above all its European section, had been disorganized by the Stalinized Comintern.
The Soviet Union suffered a defeat each time that the workers’ ranks were smashed as a result of the treacherous policies of Stalinism. The Soviet Union suffered a defeat when the Chinese revolution was strangled by Chiang Kai-shek, protégé of Stalin, in 1927; when the Soviet bureaucracy crushed the Left Opposition, exiling and exterminating the flower of the Bolshevik party; when Hitler came to power in Germany, thanks to the fatal policy of the German communist party inspired directly by Stalin. The Soviet Union suffered a defeat when Stalin sold the French working class to the bourgeoisie as payment for a military pact; when the heroic Spanish Revolution was led to its defeat by Stalin’s agents, who fought for the maintenance of private ownership of the land and factories; when the horrible Moscow trials, staged by Stalin, alienated the sympathies of workers from the Soviet Union.
The present attack against the Soviet Union by Hitler is the last link in a large chain of defeats suffered by the forces of the working class throughout the whole world, and the responsible author of these defeats was the Comintern, acting under orders of the Soviet bureaucracy. Hitler is himself a product of the decline of the proletarian revolution, carried through by the great saboteur whose name is Stalin.
We have often stated: without a Stalin there could be no Hitler! Over the present decadence reigning in Europe, with its untold misery for the working masses and their great hopes lost, moves the black shadow of Stalin, the great organizer of working class defeats!
The Bureaucracy’s Foreign Policies
The Soviet Union remained isolated as a result of the betrayal by the Comintern of the revolutionary interests of the working class. The ruling bureaucrats endeavored to avoid the consequences of their crimes towards the workers by effecting diplomatic combinations with imperialist powers. But in the background of destroyed working class forces, they could go only from failure to failure. The disarray of the Kremlin, face to face with the results of its own policies, was never more apparent than on the dawn of June 22, when Hitler opened his campaign against the Soviet Union.
The foreign policies of Stalin during the last few years were in no way superior to those of Chamberlain. And for the same reason: they were both the policies of weakness. After the Munich pact Chamberlain promised the world a “new era of peace.” This “era” lasted less than a year. After the German-Soviet pact Molotov boasted that the agreement between the “two peoples,” Russian and German, would guarantee unlimited peace to the Soviet Union. With the military smashing of France and the German advances into the Balkans, Stalin found it necessary to give Hitler a series of “warnings,” which did not exceed the limits of small diplomatic maneuvers.
However, a warning which is unaccompanied by real force changes into its opposite, that is to say, instead of restraining the enemy, it incites him to proceed further. By all these acts Soviet diplomacy demonstrated only one thing: that the Kremlin was mortally afraid of war. That could only encourage Hitler to undertake decisive action. To what extent the Soviet leaders were victims of their own policies is shown by the speeches of Molotov and Stalin. All that the “genius-like leadership” could think of saying in the face of the Hitler attack consisted of pitiful jeremiads about the dishonesty of the aggressor.
Stalin Stifles the Revolutionary Struggle
The war can only intensify the profoundly conservative policies of the bureaucracy. Internally Stalin has already strengthened the mechanism of police dictatorship at the expense of military interests. The bureaucracy lets it be known in this way that it may be willing to defend the Soviet Union but it is first and foremost concerned with defending its privileged position in the country. Externally the principal concern of the bureaucracy is to appear like a genuine member of the Anglo-American imperialist camp. It is in the name of this program that the Kremlin maintains an unbroken silence on everything which might call to mind the proletarian revolution.
The country where “socialism has finally triumphed” is at war, but the very word socialism has disappeared from the vocabulary of spokesmen of the bureaucracy. The Kremlin, with its mercenary writers, revives all the patriotic memories of Czarist Russia. It does not even dare recall to the Soviet masses the great events of the civil war. There are two reasons for this: first, not to disturb Churchill with burning memories and new fears, and second, because it is itself in mortal fear of the revolutionary traditions of the masses. The Communist International plays dead. In the countries of the “democratic” camp, the Stalinist parties made an instantaneous about-face. Their already long experience in this sort of drill step made it possible to carry it out without the slightest incident.
The immediate ally of the Soviet Union is the German working class which has the same enemy directly in front of it: German imperialism. But even now, when pressed by the armies of Hitler, the bureaucracy dares not appeal to it. The bureaucracy has appealed to the German people, including “honest National-Socialists,” in a manifesto which contains not the slightest proletarian note but is filled instead with pitiful and ridiculous lamentations.
For the destruction of German imperialism, proletarian internationalism is a far more powerful force than any aid which Moscow may be able to get from London or Washington. Lenin often repeated that it was that force which prevented the imperialists from strangling the Russian revolution during its heroic days. But in that period the Soviet leaders knew how to speak to the workers in a revolutionary tongue.
The present Kremlin leaders can only whine to German soldiers in the language of Russian nationalism; they are completely incapable of opening a revolutionary perspective to them. It identifies its war aims with those of Churchill and Roosevelt, and thereby serves only to strengthen German nationalism and in the end to help Hitler. It calls upon the English and American workers to support their imperialists and thereby cannot fail to tie the German workers to their leaders as well. The stifling of the revolutionary struggle in one camp makes its development more difficult in the other. The bureaucracy conducts the war with its own characteristic methods. They are the methods of a profoundly conservative caste of parvenus, which grew up from and was nourished by the decline of the revolution. The leaders in the Kremlin have many times justified the long series of their betrayals of workers’ struggles on the grounds of the defense needs of the Soviet Union. In reality, thanks to the Stalinized Comintern, the working class was defeated and the Soviet Union found itself more isolated than ever. Today the results are obvious. Yesterday the Kremlin fawned upon the Germany of Hitler just as today it grasps desperately at Churchill and Roosevelt. What has been achieved by this? Where has it led?
The Spirit of the Soviet Masses
The balance sheet of Stalinist policy shows an enormous deficit. The present catastrophe is only the bankruptcy of this whole policy. But if at the decisive hour the leaders in the Kremlin could only reveal their confusion, the Soviet masses, on the other hand, were able to demonstrate their courage and daring. The first weeks of war have shown the devotion and spirit of sacrifice of the Soviet troops. That is the fundamental fact of the campaign up to this time.
The Russian soldiers have been able to oppose the terrifying methods of German militarism with boldness and initiative. They do not fight “for Stalin,” for the hated bureaucrats who oppress them, but they understand fully the difference between Stalin and Hitler. They are aware that Hitler did not enter upon this formidable campaign in order to liberate the country from the parasitic bureaucracy; that he comes on the contrary to complete the latter’s task, to put a definitive end to a revolution already deeply wounded. The Soviet people, by its ferocious struggle, have shown the world that there still remains something to defend and that it expects to defend it to the end.
Despite all the crimes of the bureaucracy, the October revolution, which brought a new life to all the peoples of Russia, is not yet dead. The worker and collectivized peasant are fully aware of what a Hitler victory would mean: seizure of the economy by the German trusts and cartels, transformation of the country into a colony, the end of the first experiment in planned economy outside the profit system, the end of all hopes. They do not want to allow that.
Tasks of the Working Class
The Fourth International has unceasingly proclaimed what the Soviet worker has grasped by his class instinct: unconditional defense of the Soviet Union!We defend the Soviet Union regardless of the betrayals by the bureaucracy and despite these betrayals. We do not demand this or that concession by the Stalinist bureaucracy as a condition for our support.
But we defend the Soviet Union with our own methods. We represent the revolutionary interests of the working class and our weapon is the revolutionary class struggle. The imperialist allies of the Kremlin are not our allies. We go on with the revolutionary struggle, even in the “democratic” camp.To support the imperialist masters of England or the United States would mean to aid Hitler in maintaining his hold over the German workers. Our stakes are wagered on the revolution, and the best method of assisting the revolutionary future of the German workers is to conduct and intensify working class struggles in the opposing camp.
In Germany and in the European countries occupied by German troops, defense of the Soviet Union means directly the sabotage of the German military machine. German workers and peasants in soldiers’ uniforms, the Fourth International calls upon you to pass over with your arms and equipment into the ranks of the Red Army! German workers and peasants now in the factories, on the railroads, and on the farms, and enslaved peoples of Europe, paralyze in every possible way the march of German militarism! You will not only by this means defend the Soviet Union, but you will also be preparing your own liberation, not the “liberation” which Churchill or Roosevelt holds in store for you, but your own, whereby you will be able as free men to build a new world.
In the Soviet Union, the Fourth International calls upon the Soviet workers to be the best soldiers at their combat stations. Our organization lives upon the teachings of the leader of the Red Army in the difficult first years of the revolution, Leon Trotsky, assassinated by the Kremlin’s hangman, but whose memory must now be recurring evermore frequently, in this hour of supreme danger, to the minds of all the former participants in the civil war. His example and the traditions of that great period must now be inspiring the soldiers, sailors and aviators!
But the miracles of heroism of those days were rendered possible only because the workers and peasants clearly understand what they were defending. In order to repeat these miracles of daring, which are so necessary if Hitler is to be defeated, the best weapon is the restoration of the democracy of the Soviets. War does not put an end to our struggles against the bureaucrats but, makes it more imperious than ever.
For the defense of the Soviet Union, form soviets of workers, peasants, and soldiers! That is our rallying cry.
But our struggle against the bureaucracy remains subordinated to the war against imperialism. That is true on the political plane, where we consider our criticism of the parasitic oligarchy as the method of best arming the country against imperialism, and it is also true on the military plane where practical actions against the bureaucracy are subordinated to the needs for defense of the country. Under wartime conditions all the problems of the regime are posed more sharply than ever in the minds of the Soviet workers. The first task of the present hour is the formation of cadres and the organization of the Soviet section of the Fourth International.
Stalinism Is Doomed!
In a more or less brief period, the bureaucratic regime, now living on a compromise between the proletariat and imperialism, cannot survive the war. Even in case of victory, the days of the Stalinist clique are numbered. A victory, even in the form of prolonged resistance, would awaken all the hopes of the Soviet masses, and would destroy the accumulated apathy engendered by the years of defeats. The workers and collective farmers would increasingly oppose the arbitrary actions of bureaucrats. Besides, the failure of the German armies would inevitably produce what Stalin dreads the most—workers’ insurrections throughout all Europe. On the burning terrain of the revolution, Stalin would lose his footing and follow Hitler straight into the abyss.
The turmoil of war now resounds through the whole world. All the imperialists are working feverishly for the annihilation of humanity. A tremendous wave of reaction is sweeping before it all the liberties and all the conquests of yesterday. Hitler, Churchill and Roosevelt are eager rivals in this terrible contest. Stalin seeks only to conform to the “democratic” robbers and his greatest fear is that he may let slip some revolutionary word.
As for us, we can well continue to be optimists. Within the depths of the masses a revolt is ripening which nothing will be able to restrain. The first imperialist war of 1914-1918 now appears as a simple rehearsal for the present war, and the revolutionary whirlwind which will come out of the present war will dwarf the revolutionary crises of 1917-1920. The resistance of the Soviet masses to the German advance cannot but hasten the explosion. That is why all the peoples of the world must support that resistance, each according to the particular methods which we have indicated.
Defend the Soviet Union and you thereby defend yourselves, you will hasten the hour of your liberation!
For defense of the Soviet Union!
Long live the World Socialist Revolution!
Executive Committee of the Fourth International
August, 1941.