Sunday, May 12, 2019

From The Archives- The 50th Anniversary Of Love- Out In The Be-Bop 1960s Night- When Butterfly Swirl Swirled- A CD Review

The 50th Anniversary Of Love- Out In The Be-Bop 1960s Night- When Butterfly Swirl Swirled- A CD Review



CD Review

Classic Rock: 1964, various artists, Time-Life Music, 1987

Scene brought to mind by the cover art that graces this CD. Said cover art showing in the background a motley foursome from some post- British invasion invasion group but in the foreground the object our, ah, inspection, one female earring bejeweled but more importantly day-glo, or if not day-glo then some non-toxic paint celebration, painted flower. Immediately bringing to my memory’s eye on Kathleen Callahan, a. k. a. Butterfly Swirl, Carlsbad (California, that’s important) Class of 1968 and Josh Breslin’s old flame from the summer of love, 1967 version, circa San Francisco in the merry prankster, yellow brick road night. Of course, as always in the interest of full disclosure, Ms. Swirl was my girl, very much my girl, until old Josh, Olde Saco High School Class of 1967 (that’s up in Maine, although that is not important to the story, or just a little) showed up on Russian Hill one fine day and, well, “stole” her from me. That too is not important to the story, except maybe to explain, a little, the kind of gal Kathleen was. What is important is how she came to be, not even out of high school yet, Butterfly Swirl.

No question in 1957 or 1977 Kathleen Callahan, brown hair, bright smile, good figure, great legs and an irksomely sunny disposition would have been just Kathleen Callahan, maybe the head cheerleader at some suburban school, some seaside suburban school like Carlsbad just norte of San Diego, Or, more realistically given that locale, some dippy surfer joe girl watching while they were hanging five or ten or whatever they did to those LaJolla, Malibu, Carlsbad waves that weren’t harming anybody as they slipped tepidly to shore. And, as she later confessed to Josh she actually had been a surfer joe girl, although the guy’s name was Spin Curley, nice right.

And then the 1964 British invasion came, and she, all of thirteen, although fully formed in lots of ways as she also told Josh and she was swept away, swept away from the silly little surfer girl life, small seaside everybody abode-housed Spanish fandango and the inevitably Spin. She told Josh it was really the Kinks that got her off-center. Not the Beatles or Rolling Stones as you might think. She said she was mad for their You Really Got Me, it kind of turned her on, turned her on a lot. A lot more than Spin could deal with what with his having to hang five or ten out in mother nature wave land. So naturally she headed to Los Angeles to check things out for a few days. Her and another girl, whose story can be summed up in one word-bonkers. Heavy metal pedal drug bonkers.

But she, that girl, get this, already had a moniker, Serendipity Swan, and knew some real cool people that she had met down at LaJolla where they were taking care of some rich guy’s estate (they are all estates in that zip code, then known as postal zones). This rich guy got rich, got very rich by “inventing” acid (LSD), or something like that. Or knew guys who invented it, or something like that. But in any case, the guy taking care of the estate, Captain Crunch and his confederates were always high, always on the move with their merry prankster yellow brick road bus and always welcoming to lost lambs, and ex-surfer girls. And that was how a couple of years before Kathleen, who had not then metamorphosized ed into Butterfly Swirl, kind of at wit’s end, eventually came up further north. And that is how I met her, and Josh too. Here’s the funny part though, as things got weird on the bus, or too weird for her and her embedded suburban girl manner (when she wasn’t high, high she was like a Buddha or Siva or whatever those divines are called) she hankered (my word) for home, and for her Spin and his hanging five or ten, or whatever he did to those waves. Like I said in 1957 or 1977 she wouldn’t have even been “on the bus.” But just for that 1967 minute, driven by those wicked Brits she broke free. Josh looked for her later but never caught up to her again.

The Anniversary Of The Summer Of Love- California Dreamin’- The Music Of The Mamas And The Papas

The Anniversary Of The Summer Of Love- California Dreamin’- The Music Of The Mamas And The Papas




The Best of the Mamas and the Papas, The Mamas and the Papas, SPA, 1998


Over the past couple of years I have reviewed a fair number of performers from the folk revival of the 1960s. Looking over quickly the names of those reviewed discloses a personal predilection for individual performers, although there were plenty of good to excellent groups around at the time, like the New Lost City Ramblers, The Greenbriar Boys, The Chambers Brothers, The Clancy Brothers, and other such groups who did traditional folk music.

As folk evolved, in the mid-1960s, a little away from those more traditional forms and into something like folk rock, younger groups picked up on the spirit of the movement with their own more modern lyrics and more harmonic works. The classic example in this genre would probably be Peter, Paul and Mary but the group under review, the Mamas and the Papas, also fits that description as well. Led vocally by big-voiced "Mama" Cass and with lyrics written by lead male singer "Papa" John Phillips the group had a number of hits in that folk rock moment, many of them on this compilation.

So what is still good almost half a century later? Well, "California Dreamin" still holds its own as a signature song for the foursome. As does "Monday, Monday" and "Words Of Love". The real surprise is their cover of the old Benny King classic (written by Jerry Leiber and Phil Spector), "Spanish Harlem". That song also displays the great harmonics, the feel and balance, as well as the understated performance that was the M&P hallmark.

California Dreamin' Lyrics-John Phillips, Michelle Phillips

All the leaves are brown
(All the leaves are brown)
And the sky is gray.
(And the sky is gray).
I've been for a walk
(I've been for a walk)
On a winter's day.
(On a winter's day).

I'd be safe and warm
(I'd be safe and warm)
if I was in L.A.
(If I was in L.A.)
California dreamin'
(California dreamin') on such a winter's day.

Stopped in to a church I passed along the way.
Well I got down on my knees
(got down on my knees)
And I pretend to pray.
(I pretend to pray).
You know the preacher likes the cold.
(preacher likes the cold).
He knows I'm gonna stay.
(knows I'm gonna stay).
California dreamin'
(California dreamin') on such a winter's day.

(Bridge)

All the leaves are brown
(All the leaves are brown)
And the sky is gray.
(And the sky is gray).
I've been for a walk
(I've been for a walk)
On a winter's day.
(On a winter's day).

If I didn't tell her
(If I didn't tell her)
I could leave today.
(I could leave today).
California dreamin' (California dreamin')on such a winter's day,
California dreamin' on such a winter's day,
California dreamin' on such a winter's day.

Out in the Be-Bop Night- Bo Diddley- Who Put The Rock In Rock 'n’ Roll?

Out in the Be-Bop Night- Bo Diddley- Who Put The Rock In Rock 'n’ Roll?




In Honor Of The Late Rocker Chuck Berry Who Helped Make It All Possible-Out in the Be-Bop Night- Bo Diddley- Who Put The Rock In Rock 'n’ Roll?

CD Review

Bo Diddley: Two On One, Bo Diddley, Chess Records, 1986

Well, there is no need to pussy foot around on this one. The question before the house is who put the rock in rock ‘n’ roll. And here in this Chess Records double CD, Bo Diddley unabashedly stakes his claim that was featured in a song by the same name, except, except it starts out with the answer. Yes, Bo Diddley put the rock in rock ‘n’ roll. And off his performance here as part of the 30th anniversary celebration of the tidal wave of rock that swept through the post-World War II teenage population in 1955 he has some “street cred” for that proposition.

Certainly there is no question that black music, in the early 1950s at least, previously confined to mainly black audiences down on the southern farms and small segregated towns and in the northern urban ghettos along with a ragtag coterie of “hip” whites is central to the mix that became classic 1950s rock ‘n’ roll. That is not to deny the other important thread commonly called rockabilly (although if you had scratched a rockabilly artist and asked him or her for a list of influences black gospel and rhythm and blues would be right at the top of their list, including Elvis’). But here let’s just go with the black influences. No question Ike Turner’s Rocket 88, Joe Turner’s Shake , Rattle and Roll and, I would add, Elmore James’ Look Yonder Wall are nothing but examples of R&B starting to break to a faster, more nuanced rock beat.

Enter one Bo Diddley. No only does he have the old country blues songbook down, and the post- World War II urbanization and electrification of those blues down, but he reaches back to the oldest traditions of black music, back before the American slavery plantations days, back to the Carib influences and even further back to earth mother African shores. In short, that “jungle music,” that “devil’s music” that every white mother and father (and not a few black ones as well), north and south was worried, no, frantically worried, would carry away their kids. Well, it did and we are none the worst for it.

Here is a little story from back in the 1950s days though that places old Bo’s claim in perspective and addresses the impact (and parental horror) that Bo and rock had on teenage (and late pre-teenage) kids, even all white “projects” kids like me and my boys. In years like 1955, ’56, ’57 every self-respecting teenage boy (or almost teenage boy), under the influence of television, tried, one way or another, to imitate Elvis. From dress, to sideburns, to swiveling hips, to sneer. Hell, I even bought a doo-wop comb to wear my hair like his. I should qualify that statement a little and say every self-respecting boy who was aware of girls. And, additionally, aware that if you wanted to get any place with them, any place at all, you had better be something like the second coming of Elvis.

Enter now, one eleven year old William James Bradley, “Billie”, my bosom buddy in old elementary school days. Billie was wild for girls way before I acknowledged their existence, or at least their charms. Billie decided, and rightly so I think, to try a different tack. Instead of forming the end of the line in the Elvis imitation department he decided to imitate Bo Diddley. At this time we are playing the song Bo Diddley and, I think, Who Do You Love? like crazy. Elvis bopped, no question. But Bo’s beat spoke to something more primordial, something connected, unconsciously to our way back ancestry. Even an old clumsy white boy like me could sway to the beat.

Of course that last sentence is nothing but a now time explanation for what drove us to the music. Then we didn’t know the roots of rock, or probably care, except our parents didn’t like it, and were sometimes willing to put the stop to our listening. Praise be for transistor radios (younger readers look that up on Wikipedia) to get around their madness.

But see, Billie also, at that time, did not know what Bo looked like. Nor did I. So his idea of imitating Bo was to set himself up as a sort of Buddy Holly look alike, complete with glasses and that single curled hair strand.

Billie, naturally, like I say, was nothing but a top-dog dancer, and wired into girl-dom like crazy. And they were starting to like him too. One night he showed up at a local church catholic, chaste, virginal priest-chaperoned dance with this faux Buddy Holly look. Some older guy meaning maybe sixteen or seventeen, wise to the rock scene well beyond our experiences, asked Billy what he was trying to do. Billie said, innocently, that he was something like the seventh son of the seventh son of Bo Diddley. This older guy laughed, laughed a big laugh and drew everyone’s attention to himself and Billie. Then he yelled out, yelled out for all the girls to hear “Billie boy here wants to be Bo Diddley, he wants to be nothing but a jungle bunny music N----r boy”. All goes quiet. Billie runs out, and I run after, out the back door. I couldn’t find him that night.

See, Billie and I were clueless about Bo’s race. We just thought it was all rock (read: white music) then and didn’t know much about the black part of it, or the south part, or the segregated part either. We did know though what the n----r part meant in our all-white housing project and here was the kicker. Next day Billie strutted into school looking like the seventh son of the seventh son of Elvis. But as he got to the end of that line I could see, and can see very clearly even now, that the steam has gone out of him. So when somebody asks you who put the rock in rock ‘n’ roll know that old Bo’s claim was right on track, and he had to clear some very high racial and social hurdles to make that claim. Just ask Billie.

Join Bernie Sanders and AOC Monday Varshini Prakash

Varshini Prakash<team@sunrisemovement.org>
Al,
I've got some more big news to share: on Monday, Senator Bernie Sanders is going to be joining the final stop on the Road to a Green New Deal Tour.1
We've got an amazing lineup of speakers and I'm positively thrilled to be joining them to launch the next phase of our campaign: putting together an unprecedented youth intervention to make sure the Green New Deal is at the center of the debate as the Presidential primary heats up.
  • Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez
  • Sen. Bernie Sanders
  • Sen. Ed Markey
  • Judith Howell, SEIU 32BJ
  • Payton Wilkins, Historically Black College and Universities Climate Consortium
  • Naomi Klein, author and activist
  • Alexandra Rojas, Executive Director of Justice Democrats
  • Rhiana Gunn-Wright, policy lead for the GND, New Consensus
  • Jeremiah Lowery, DC environmental justice organizer and former city council candidate
Onwards,
Varshini

Al,
Yesterday, we announced some big news: Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez will be joining us next Monday for the final stop on the Road to a Green New Deal Tour.
She’ll join Varshini, Senator Ed Markey, Green New Deal policy expert Rhiana Gunn-Wright, and others to celebrate the success of tour and lay out the next phase of our plan: making a historic intervention in the early stages of the Democratic Presidential primary to put the Green New Deal at the top of the agenda of every serious candidate.
Tickets are already sold out. Thousands will be there and thousands more will tune in via the first and only livestream we’ll have of a tour stop. You won’t want to miss it.
The past month has been unprecedented. In big cities and small towns and in red states and blue, tens of thousands have come together for the largest wave of action in our movement’s history. Thousands of new people have joined Sunrise’s ranks and shared how the Green New Deal would improve life for all of us.  
Now, we’re set up to make seismic impact on the Presidential Primary. As the campaign ramps up, we need to ensure that every candidate is feeling the heat from our movement, making it undeniable that any candidate who wants our support must put the Green New Deal and climate change front and center of their campaign.
On Monday, we’ll join Rep. Ocasio-Cortez to kick off this next phase of our campaign.
Thank you for all you are doing,
Victoria Fernandez

If you've saved your payment information with ActBlue Express, your donation will go through immediately:
Sent via ActionNetwork.org. To update your email address, change your name or address, or to stop receiving emails from Sunrise, pleaseclick here.

Delta Airlines is worth billions of dollars. But it’s actively fighting its employees who want to join a union and negotiate for better wages, telling them to buy video games instead.

BernieSanders.com<info@berniesanders.com>
To  alfred johnson  

Delta Airlines is worth billions of dollars. But it’s actively fighting its employees who want to join a union and negotiate for better wages, telling them to buy video games instead.

Join Bernie Sanders and tell Delta to stop trying to undercut workers' right to form a union and negotiate for better wages.
Alfred:
Delta Airlines is a multi-billion dollar company whose CEO made nearly $22 million in 2017.
Yet the company’s ramp agents — like the people who you see out of the plane window helping load and unload airplanes — make as little as $9 an hour.
Nine dollars an hour is not a livable wage. It makes sense that Delta employees have decided to join together to form a union, so they can bargain together for better wages, benefits, and working conditions.
Well, Delta doesn’t like that. In fact, they told their employees to buy video games instead of forming a union. Really. This is their poster:
Delta poster
What a disgrace. A company that can pay its CEO nearly $22 million can certainly afford to treat its workers better.
Bernie Sanders is standing with Delta workers who want to exercise their right to form a union. Will you join him in calling on Delta to stop trying to undercut workers' right to form a union and negotiate for better wages?
When Bernie talks about the need to rebuild the American labor movement and to make it easier, not harder, to join a union, he means it. And we mean it on our campaign, too.
Bernie 2020 is the first-ever major presidential campaign to negotiate a contract with its workers’ union. We’re proud of that fact, and we hope other campaigns follow suit.
The right to organize as part of a union has historically been one of the surest ways for American workers to join the middle class.
There are many reasons for the growing inequality in our economy, but perhaps the most significant reason for the disappearing middle class is that the rights of workers to join together and collectively bargain for better wages, benefits, and working conditions have been severely undermined.
That is why it is such a disgrace for Delta to make its CEO a multi-millionaire while actively fighting its employees’ rights to form and join a union and to negotiate for better wages. Telling its employees to buy video games instead of joining a union is insulting to the workers, and to the idea that people should be able to make a living wage in this country.
Will you call on Delta to let its workers form a union and negotiate for better wages?
Thank you for standing up for working people.
In solidarity,
Faiz Shakir

Leaving Neverland: Lying Hit Piece Down With the Demonizing of Michael Jackson! “The Michael Jackson cacophony is fascinating in that it is not about Jackson at all…. All that noise is about America, as the dishonest custodian of black life and wealth; the blacks, especially males, in America; and the burning, buried American guilt; and sex and sexual roles and sexual panic; money, success and despair.” —James Baldwin (1985)

Workers Vanguard No. 1153
19 April 2019
 
Leaving Neverland: Lying Hit Piece
Down With the Demonizing of Michael Jackson!
“The Michael Jackson cacophony is fascinating in that it is not about Jackson at all…. All that noise is about America, as the dishonest custodian of black life and wealth; the blacks, especially males, in America; and the burning, buried American guilt; and sex and sexual roles and sexual panic; money, success and despair.”
—James Baldwin (1985)
Recalling the zombie creatures in the acclaimed music video “Thriller,” there is a renewed feeding frenzy over the deceased King of Pop. HBO’s Leaving Neverland, a sensationalist four-hour film by Dan Reed, showcases Wade Robson and James Safechuck, who allege years of childhood sexual abuse by Michael Jackson. Falsely marketed as a “documentary,” Leaving Neverland is based solely on the spurious and uncorroborated testimonies of Robson and Safechuck, two men who for decades were known as ardent defenders of Jackson against sexual abuse charges, of which the singer was fully exonerated. Now the news vultures, with the blessing of the “Queen of All Media,” Oprah Winfrey, are rehashing the old smear campaign, and the racist, anti-sex and anti-gay witchhunt that encircled the celebrity during his life and hounded him to death. As Marxists, we categorically reject such witchhunts and the moralistic bourgeois framework behind them, which criminalizes any contact between adults and children that is perceived as sexual, casting adults as predators and children as victims.
Dan Reed’s hatchet job presents zero evidence, deliberately omits anyone who could easily rebut the abuse allegations and conceals the accusers’ financial motivations. Howard Weitzman, attorney for the Jackson estate, details in both a 7 February letter to HBO CEO Richard Plepler and a 21 February lawsuit against the company, how the accusers lack all credibility. Between 2013 and 2017, Safechuck and Robson, the latter a self-proclaimed “master of deception,” tried to extort hundreds of millions of dollars from the estate. Their multiple civil cases related to alleged abuse were dismissed with prejudice. Still trying to collect huge sums for damages, the two men’s lawyers pursued a new course: using the court of public opinion to help their appeal gain traction.
Characterizing the network’s hit piece as a “posthumous character assassination,” the Jackson estate’s lawsuit rightly observes:
“Ten years after [Jackson’s] passing, there are still those out to profit from his enormous worldwide success and take advantage of his eccentricities. Michael is an easy target because he is not here to defend himself, and the law does not protect the deceased from defamation, no matter how extreme the lies are. Michael may not have lived his life according to society’s norms, but genius and eccentricity are not crimes. Nothing and no one can rewrite the facts which show that Michael Jackson is indeed innocent of the charges being levied at him.”
And the facts are that in a 2005 criminal trial, Michael Jackson was found not guilty of 14 counts related to the alleged molestation of 13-year-old Gavin Arvizo. At that time, Wade Robson, who testified on Jackson’s behalf, was adamant in both his deposition and on the stand that Jackson never touched him or any other child. That trial also vindicated Jackson as to the previous 1993 child abuse accusations against a different 13-year-old. Likewise, the FBI conducted extensive investigations and surveillance of Jackson for over a decade between 1992 and 2005. The Feds and prosecutors, intent on finding any way to frame a black man for molesting white children, could not produce a shred of evidence, including in the over 300 pages of FBI documents published online.
Leaving Neverland has begun to receive some blowback as multiple discrepancies come out in the shady tales of Robson and Safechuck, who clearly rehearsed their scripted interviews in multiple takes. Director Dan Reed has gone to the wall over his incendiary piece of fiction, comparing Michael Jackson defenders to religious fanatics, calling them “the Islamic State of fandom.” Such defenders would include Jackson’s longtime friends Macaulay Culkin and Brett Barnes, as well as Diana Ross. Barnes, who the film implies was the “next in line” to be molested by Jackson, denounced the movie in a message online: “Not only do we have to deal with these lies, but we’ve also got to deal with people perpetuating these lies.”
One of those lies is from Safechuck, who claims that he and Jackson spent their sexual “honeymoon” in the Neverland train station starting in 1988. Yet the station was not built until 1994, when Safechuck was beyond his childhood years (one of the claims is that Jackson dumped kids when they reached puberty) and when Jackson, then married, was not even living there! Meanwhile, Robson claims his first sexual encounter with Jackson took place in 1990 when he was left alone at the Neverland ranch while his family took a trip to the Grand Canyon. But according to his mother’s own sworn statements, Robson accompanied his family on the trip. The timelines of “abuse” for Robson and Safechuck are so illogical that they could only be manufactured.
The liberal bourgeois U.S. media, like the New York Times, has promoted salacious headlines of the “predator” Jackson and blacked out any criticism of Leaving Neverland. Meanwhile, countless bloggers, YouTube commentators and online communities (as well as a couple of foreign news outlets) have meticulously pieced together the real story. Conservative talk show host John Ziegler, who is no fan of Jackson, was one of the first to interview Michael’s niece Brandi and nephew Taj in search of the truth. Well acquainted with the accusers, they paint a picture of Robson and Safechuck as professional opportunists whose families latched on to Jackson, took advantage of his friendship and generosity, and only turned against him when their own personal fame and fortune took a downturn years after Jackson’s death. Shattering Robson’s pretense as a naive, chaste adolescent who was duped by Michael into hating women, Brandi notes that in her seven-year teenage relationship with Robson, he had sexual encounters with multiple women.
In 2009 Robson, then 27 years old, attended Jackson’s funeral and wrote in a tribute that Jackson is “one of the main reasons I believe in the pure goodness of humankind. He was a close friend of mine for 20 years. His music, his movement, his personal words of inspiration and encouragement and his unconditional love will live inside of me forever. I will miss him immeasurably.” Just two years later, after Robson failed to nail a choreography gig for Cirque du Soleil’s “Michael Jackson ONE” and his career dried up, he suddenly “realized” through therapy that he had been abused. For his part, Safechuck “discovered” his abuse when watching Robson on the Today show, which coincided with the Safechuck family’s financial meltdown.
Moral Frenzies and Mob Justice
In a thoughtful piece called “The New Lynching of Michael Jackson” (medium.com, 27 February), Linda Raven-Woods observed: “That so many prominent journalists and media talking heads have displayed the willingness to accept this film blindly at face value, without raising the much needed questions that need to be asked about its veracity, is a bigger unforgiveable travesty than the film itself.” She goes on to note how the backers of Leaving Neverland are confident “that the current zeitgeist of MeToo and its ‘don’t question victims’ mentality will create the tunnel vision needed to willfully blind viewers.” In an atmosphere that has junked the presumption of innocence and due process for those accused of sexual abuse, this tale finds a fertile medium.
Up until he died, Michael Jackson firmly maintained that his relationships with children had been platonic, an assertion backed up by forensics and witnesses. But in the #MeToo climate of “believe all survivors,” HBO’s prurient screenplay was “proof” enough to rile up the torch-bearing mob. Numerous radio stations around the world pulled Michael Jackson’s music, clothing lines withdrew their Jackson apparel, and an episode of The Simpsons with Jackson’s voice was removed from its catalog.
Even if at any point in his life Jackson did have some kind of romantic relationship with an underage boy, that is no crime in our eyes. He was accused of violating laws that prohibit sexual activity, even when consensual, before an arbitrary age. As steadfast defenders of privacy and sexual freedom, the Spartacist League has always opposed “age of consent” laws, which are intended to stigmatize and punish all intimate relationships between adults and younger people. By branding any sexual act involving a minor as rape, such laws are inherently repressive and promote state interference into people’s intimate lives.
Sexual activity is natural for humans of all ages. The sole guideline for any sexual relationship should be that of effective consent—that is, mutual agreement and understanding by the parties involved, regardless of age, gender or sexual preference. In that light, we have always uniquely stood for the rights of the North American Man/Boy Love Association (NAMBLA), which advocates the legalization of consensual sex between men and boys. We also oppose all legislation against victimless crimes, such as pornography, which is simply images and words intended for pleasure.
In anti-sex witchhunts a la Americana, mass hysteria and moral outrage are crucial ingredients to stoke fear and push ideological conformity to bourgeois norms. The “predator” bogeyman is socially useful for the capitalist rulers, who can hypocritically parade as “protecting the children” and divert attention from the social system they uphold, which regularly denies children basic needs like food, shelter and education. Hysteria over “child abuse” does nothing to confront real violence, but merely serves to bolster the institution of the family. The family, the main source of the oppression of women and youth, is key under capitalism to enforcing behavioral roles and the obedience of the next generation.
During the “Satanic sex ring” panic of the mid 1980s and early ’90s, hundreds of innocent people, especially day care employees, were framed up on fantastical charges of raping and torturing children. Child psychologists, who implanted false “recovered memories” during therapy, assisted in the crusade. The ideological backdrop was the promotion of “good” stay-at-home mothers as against the supposed evils of childcare. A not-so-subtle echo of this “right” vs. “wrong” parenting schema appears in Leaving Neverland, with its warnings against leaving kids with strangers or letting them sleep in bed with an adult. The implication is that only the family can offer a safe haven. Yet it is often within the family itself that children, who are confined in the horrible straitjacket of moralism and religious guilt, suffer criminal abuse.
The graphic sexual accounts in Leaving Neverland, which come off as rather gentle and innocuous, are manipulatively presented as part of Jackson’s “grooming” process whereby he seduced children into loving him. The film’s intention is to equate entirely harmless affection from adults with assault and trauma. This is the shtick of Dan Reed, a self-declared “gun for hire” who made his name from tabloid movies like The Paedophile Hunter that sensationalizes bloodthirsty vigilantism. His “grooming” narrative is the focus of HBO’s follow-up special After Neverland hosted by the billionaire Oprah. Parading as an authority on child sexual abuse, she invited an audience of “survivors” to take part in “this moment” that “transcends Michael Jackson.”
There is a deeper agenda at play, not only in terms of boosting profit and ratings, but also in deflecting attention from Harvey Weinstein, whom she considered a close friend during the many years of his alleged serial assaults of women. Oprah’s HBO stunt has earned her deserved animosity from black critics calling her a sellout and a traitor for throwing Jackson’s corpse to the wolves, with trending hashtags #NOprah and #CancelOprah. Appearing on Trevor Noah’s The Daily Show last week, Oprah claimed that such “hateration” would not make her waver in her defense of Robson and Safechuck, maintaining that molestation amounts to a “pattern” of sexual seduction. In fact, the only “pattern” in this entire saga is that of con artists repeatedly trying to shake down an innocent man.
The Man in the Mirror
The legacy of Michael Jackson spans a period from his roots as a working-class black kid in Indiana to his 45 years as a successful entertainer, during which he transformed the face of pop music, broke records, transcended racial barriers and became a celebrated international superstar. Yet his life was no “American dream” but mirrored racist American cruelty. As we commented in our obituary for the artist (WV No. 940, 31 July 2009):
“The tragedy of Jackson’s death is that an extremely influential music career was driven to the brink of destruction by a savagely racist and puritanical witchhunt spanning more than a decade. The mass hysteria whipped up against Jackson over charges of ‘child molestation’ was an indictment of this anti-sex, bigoted capitalist society, where being an eccentric black celebrity is enough for the state to try to frame you up with something.”
From his early years in the Jackson 5, Michael Jackson went on to become a global icon shortly after the struggles of the civil rights movement. Notwithstanding the “lightening” of his physical appearance, in a country where the color-caste nature of black oppression is enforced through the “one drop of black blood” rule, Jackson was always a black man. And for that he was a marked man. Since the days of chattel slavery, in the U.S. black skin has carried the stamp of permanent servitude, social isolation and “inferiority,” regardless of social status or success and sometimes because of it. Black oppression is the cornerstone of American capitalism, enforced by custom and law and expressed through segregation, cop violence and extralegal terror.
Decades after the racist lynching of Emmett Till, accusations of sexual assault are still used as a pretext to go after black men, including those like Jackson who did not conform to toxic stereotypes of black male sexuality. Throughout history, anti-sex frenzies, not least the current #MeToo variant, have fanned the flames of racial and sexual bigotry, conjuring up the supposed virtue of white womanhood and purity of white childhood. It is perhaps no coincidence that Jackson’s favorite book was To Kill a Mockingbird, the story of a black man ruined by false rape allegations.
As a performer, Michael Jackson helped define American pop culture as a whole, and for that he continues to be both celebrated and crucified. His behavior may have been an enigma to many, but his lyrics reflected his own struggle to overcome the discrimination and hounding he confronted throughout his career. Everyone who personally knew Jackson can testify to his unaffected “Peter Pan Syndrome” and his kindhearted fondness for children, which likely derived from his utter lack of a childhood. He was exceedingly generous with his time and money, as shown by his commitment to help Robson and Safechuck develop their careers. But in this callous society, no good deed goes unpunished.
Our defense of Jackson over the years is an expression of our dedication to the socialist liberation of humanity. As communists who champion the cause of all the victims of this decaying social order, we seek to build a revolutionary party based on the vanguard of the working class—one that can act as a “tribune of the people” against every form of oppression and bigotry. Such a party will lead the struggle for the complete political and economic reorganization of society through workers revolution, which will open the door to rooting out racial and sexual divisions and overcoming material scarcity. A communist world will be one of complete sexual freedom and material abundance, in which every black child, and all others, can grow and develop their talents, and every person can express themselves fully, propelling human civilization to undreamed-of heights.

***Happy Birthday Robert- From The Blues In The Night Archives (2011) The Centenary Of Blue Master Robert Johnson's Birthday- Yah, Hellhound On His Trail


***From The Blues In The Night Archives (2011) The Centenary Of Blue Master Robert Johnson's Birthday- Yah, Hellhound On His Trail

Markin comment:

I have noted in previous entries that I, unlike many others, am not a particular devotee of Robert Johnson. I prefer the likes of Skip James, Son House and Bukka White nevertheless I understand and support the notion of Robert Johnson as a key blues master. No question. Just personal preferences. Happy Birthday, Brother Robert.
*****

Repost On Robert Johnson

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

*The "Mac Daddy" Of Modern Blues- Robert Johnson

DVD REVIEW

Hell Hounds On His Heels- The Legendary Robert Johnson’s Story


Can’t You Hear The Wind Howl?: The Life And Music of Robert Johnson, Robert Johnson and various artists, narrated by Danny Glover, 1997

I have recently spent some little effort making comparisons between old time country blues singers. My winners have been Skip James and Son House. Apparently, if the story behind the Robert Johnson story presented here is right, I am in a minority compared to the like of guitarists Eric Clapton and Keith Richards. So be it. After viewing this very informative bio, complete with the inevitable “talking heads" that populate these kinds of film efforts I still have that same opinion, except I would hold Johnson’s version of his “Sweet Home, Chicago” in higher regard after listening to it here. Previously many other covers of the song, including the trendy Blues Brothers version seemed better, a lot better.

The producers of this film have spent some time and thought on presentation. The choice of Danny Glover as expressive and thoughtful narrator was a welcome sign. Having Johnson road companion and fellow blues artist, Johnny Shines, give insights into Johnson’s work habits, traveling ways, womanizing, whisky drinking, and off-center personality make this a very strong film. Add in footage of Son House (an early Johnson influence) and various other Delta artists who met or were met by Johnson along the way and one gets the feeling that this is more a labor of love than anything else. For a man who lived fast, died young and left a relatively small body of work (some 20 odd songs) this is a very good take on Robert Johnson. I might add that if Johnson is your number one blues man this film gives you plenty of ammunition for your position.

Note: As is almost universally true with such film endeavors we only get snippets of the music. I would have liked to hear a full “Preacher’s Blues,” “Sweet Home, Chicago,” "Terraplane Blues,” and “Hell Hounds On My Heels”but for that one will have to look elsewhere.

Terraplane Blues" lyrics-Robert Johnson

And I feel so lonesome

you hear me when I moan

When I feel so lonesome

you hear me when I moan

Who been drivin my terraplane

for you since I've been gone

I'd said I flashed your lights mama

your horn won't even blow

I even flash my lights mama

this horn won't even blow

Got a short in this connection

hoo-well, babe, its way down below

I'm on hist your hood momma

I'm bound to check your oil

I'm on hist your hood momma mmmm

I'm bound to check your oil

I got a woman that I'm lovin

way down in Arkansas

Now you know the coils ain't even buzzin

little generator won't get the spark

Motors in a bad condition

you gotta have these batteries charged

But I'm cryin please