Showing posts with label Lead Belly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lead Belly. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 09, 2019

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- *Legends Of The Country Blues Tradition

DVD REVIEWS

February Is Black History Month

Legends Of The Country Blues, Vol. 1, Vestapol Productions, 2002


I have spent some considerable effort in this space reviewing various trends in the blues tradition, including country blues. As is fairly well known country blues got its start down in the South during the early part of the 20th century (if not earlier) as a way for blacks (mainly) to cope with the dreaded, deadly work on the plantations (picking that hard to pick cotton). In this volume (and a second volume that will be reviewed separately) Stefan Grossman, the renowned guitar teacher and performer in his own right has taken old film clips and segments from early television and produced an hour of classic performances by the masters of country blues guitar picking and singing (Sorry, no women players presented in these productions, although there were a few. Women blues singers came into their own a little later.).

Country acoustic blues guitar playing was a central form of entertainment for those who lives in the country, desperately needed entertainment during and after work and for the most part had no access to electricity. Thus, this favored form of entertainment was provided in the backwoods “juke joints” where the whiskey, women and words came fast and furious after a hard work week. A small body of men, mainly in Mississippi, but also elsewhere in the South (notably Texas and North Carolina) fought to be “king of the blues”. And the qualifications to win that title included being able to wield that old National Steel guitar for all it was worth and sing something about two-timing women, the rascally boss or overseer or just plain not having any money to show for the week’s work after that Saturday nights bout. In this volume the “king of the hill” is one Son House. This film contains the famous television performance of House’s "Death Letter Blues". It is mesmerizing as he flails away at that old National Steel guitar and trance-like invokes the ghost of his dead woman friend whom he has come to regret treating so badly.

Also present here are other classic performers such as Mississippi John Hurt, one of the key influences on the Northern urban folk revival of the early 1960’s, and his quiet style of picking and singing: Josh White with his more urbane, almost jazz-like style; Big Bill Broonzy, a performer worthy of more extensive separate comment, in several pieces; Mance Lipscomb and his Texas style: and the Reverend Gary Davis and his clean picking and deeply religious moanings. I might note that some of the performances were done on a show that Pete Seeger hosted so that is an added treat although he, and others, are reduced to looking on in awe. That seems about right. This DVD is useful both for the experienced guitar player who is looking to see how the masters did it and for those novices unfamiliar with this kind of music as a good potpourri of styles to introduce the genre.

Legends Of The Country Blues, Vol. 2, Vestapol Productions, 2002

Part of this review has been used in a separate review of Volume One.


I have spent some considerable effort in this space reviewing various trends in the blues tradition, including country blues. As is fairly well known country blues got its start down in the South during the early part of the 20th century (if not earlier) as a way for blacks (mainly, although here Sam Chatman is given some space I think to represent the mountain music contribution to this rural music) to cope with the dreaded, deadly work on the plantations (picking that hard to pick cotton). In this volume (and a first volume that has been reviewed separately) Stefan Grossman, the renowned guitar teacher and performer in his own right has taken old film clips and segments from early television and produced an hour of classic performances by the masters of country blues guitar picking and singing (Sorry, no women players presented in these productions, although there were a few. Women blues singers came into their own a little later.).

Country acoustic blues guitar playing was a central form of entertainment for those who lives in the country, desperately needed entertainment during and after work and for the most part had no access to electricity. Thus, this favored form of entertainment was provided in the backwoods “juke joints” where the whiskey, women and words came fast and furious after a hard work week. A small body of men, mainly in Mississippi, but also elsewhere in the South (notably Texas and North Carolina) fought to be “king of the blues”. And the qualifications to win that title included being able to wield that old National Steel guitar for all it was worth and sing something about two-timing women, the rascally boss or overseer or just plain not having any money to show for the week’s work after that Saturday nights bout.

In this volume the “king of the hill” is one Bukka White. Son House the star of Volume One is relegated to second place here as Bukka just flat out plays that old guitar better, with more feeling and a better sense of showmanship in presenting the material. "Aberdeen Mississippi Women" is an extremely good example of his mastery. I have mentioned in a previous review that Bukka White was not as familiar to me and those who I know who share my interest in the blues. That deserves immediate correction and Brother White will certainly be the subject of a later, separate entry in this space.

Also included here is the previously mentioned Son House, again flailing away for all he is worth; The Reverend Gary Davis demonstrating his prowess as a guitarist: Huston Stackhouse with his playful voice; Big Joe Williams being, well, Big Joe with some guitar that I could not count the number of strings on (as usual); and, Lead Belly. Lead Belly, who may have been one of the most well-known black country blues performers of all time (certainly through his connection to "Goodnight, Irene"), is rather flat here. Too bad. There are better clips of his performances elsewhere.

Thursday, May 02, 2019

*The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By- Lead Belly's "Bourgeois Blues"

Click on the title to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Lead Belly performing "Bourgeois Blues".

****
In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.

Markin comment:

This song seems about right on a weekend where all the hubbub is about Martin Luther King and his non-violent strategy for black liberation. Lead Belly had a better sense of what was happening even back in the 1930s when Washington was NOT a predominantly black city and a black man was NOT president. Some things have not changed, even in this "post-racial" America.


Lead Belly - The Bourgeois Blues Lyrics

Lord, in a bourgeois town
It's a bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say "I don't want no niggers up there"
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a nigger just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC
`Cause it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Wednesday, May 01, 2019

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- *Making Joyful Music- The Weavers Are In The House

Click on title to link to YouTube film clip of The Weavers performing "So Long It's Been Good To Know You".

CD Review

The Weavers Greatest Hits, The Weavers, Vanguard Records, 1986


This review has been used for other work by The Weavers, including review of the PBS production, The 25th Anniversary Reunion of The Weavers. That documentary gives greater detail to the points that I have made below and includes more on the genesis, early successes and the ultimate fates and health of the various members of the group.

Okay, let’s have a show of hands. Who first heard learned the classic Lead Belly song “Goodnight, Irene” from his rendition of the song? Who from the group under review, The Weavers? Another try. How about “If I Had A Hammer”? Or the old Underground Railroad song “Follow The Drinking Gourd”? I suspect that I would get the same answer. And that is to the good. Sure, we have heard all the songs in this collection before by various artist like Pete Seeger as an individual on “Guantanamera”, Bob Dylan on “House Of The Rising Sun” , Tennessee Ernie Ford On “Sixteen Tons” or Woody Guthrie on “This Land Is Your Land” but we HEAR this music through the four distinctive voices of The Weavers. Thus the title of this entry- Making Joyful Music.

That said, this group morphed in the 1940’s from a grouping, The Almanac Singers, led by Pete Seeger, with occasional assistance from Woody Guthrie that performed in New York City and other locales for the labor movement and other left-wing causes. The rise to eminence I believe, however, came with the addition of the lovely strong voice of Ronnie Gilbert that gives a very different feel to the music in contrast to the Almanac Singers. As a group The Weavers made their mark with a stirring, very popular rendition of the Lead Belly classic mentioned above, “Goodnight, Irene”. Then the roof fell in. Between personal differences within the group and the pressure, extreme pressure, of the 1950’s anti-communist witch hunt in America that looked for “reds under every bed” and that dragged Pete Seeger in its wake the group fell off the radar for a while (in Seeger’s case a long while). Nevertheless this basic American folk music lives on in their voices and in this recording that sounds pretty good even today.

A few other songs from this collection also deserve note. The beautifully harmonic (and wild) “Wimoweh”; a nice version of “On Top Of Old Smokey”; a well done version of the currently very apt and appropriate Yip Harburg song “Brother Can You Spare A Dime”; and, as a finale “So Long It’s Been Good To Know You”. In the folk pantheon this group has a place of honor. Listen to this CD to find out why.

Goodnight Irene

Traditional Lyrics


Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight
Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene
I'll see you in my dreams
Last saturday night I got married

Me and my love settled down
Now me and my love are parted
I'm gonna take another stroll downtown

Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight
Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene
I'll see you in my dreams

Sometimes I live in the country
Sometimes I live in the town

Sometimes I have a great notion
To jump In the river and drown

Irene goodnight, Irene good night
Good night Irene, good night Irene
I'll see you in my dreams

Ramblin' stop your gamblin'
Stop stayin' out late at night
Go home to your wife and your family
Sit down by the fireside bright

Irene goodnight, Irene good night
Good night Irene, good night Irene
I'll see you in my dreams

Irene goodnight, Irene good night
Good night Irene, good night Irene
I'll see you in my dreams


IF I HAD A HAMMER (The Hammer Song)

words and music by Lee Hays and Pete Seeger


If I had a hammer
I'd hammer in the morning
I'd hammer in the evening
All over this land
I'd hammer out danger
I'd hammer out a warning
I'd hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land

If I had a bell
I'd ring it in the morning
I'd ring it in the evening
All over this land
I'd ring out danger
I'd ring out a warning
I'd ring out love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land

If I had a song
I'd sing it in the morning
I'd sing it in the evening
All over this land
I'd sing out danger
I'd sing out a warning
I'd sing out love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land

Well I've got a hammer
And I've got a bell
And I've got a song to sing
All over this land
It's the hammer of justice
It's the bell of freedom
It's the song about love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land

Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?

Gorney, Harburg


They used to tell me
I was building a dream.
And so I followed the mob
When there was earth to plow
Or guns to bear
I was always there
Right on the job.

They used to tell me
I was building a dream
With peace and glory ahead.
Why should I be standing in line
Just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad
I made it run
Made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad
Now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once I built a tower up to the sun
Brick and rivet and lime.
Once I built a tower,
Now it's done.
Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits
Gee we looked swell
Full of that yankee doodle dee dum.
Half a million boots went sloggin' through hell
And I was the kid with the drum!

Say don't you remember?
They called me Al.
It was Al all the time.
Why don't you remember?
I'm your pal.
Say buddy, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits,
Ah, gee we looked swell
Full of that yankee doodle dee dum!
Half a million boots went sloggin' through hell
And I was the kid with the drum!

Oh, say don't you remember?
They called me Al.
It was Al all the time.
Say, don't you remember?
I'm your pal.
Buddy, can you spare a dime?



©1958, 1962 (renewed), 1986 (renewed)
TRO-Ludlow Music, Inc. (BMI)

Friday, December 22, 2017

Songs To While The Time By- The Roots Is The Toots-Lead Belly's "Bourgeois Blues"-A Song For Our Times-Build The Resistance

Songs To While The Time By- The Roots Is The Toots-Lead Belly's "Bourgeois Blues"-A Song For Our Times-Build The Resistance   






A YouTube clip to give some flavor to this subject from Leadbelly who may have sang the song seventy or eighty years ago but is not that far off now-except now it is more than just black people.


Over the past several years I have been running an occasional series in this space of songs, mainly political protest songs, you know The Internationale, Union Maid, Which Side Are You On, Viva La Quince Brigada, Universal Soldier, and such entitled Songs To While The Class Struggle By. And those songs provide our movement with that combination entertainment/political message that is an art form that we use to draw the interested around us. Even though today those interested may be counted rather than countless and the class struggle to be whiled away is rather one-sidedly going against us at present. The bosses are using every means from firing to targeting union organizing to their paid propagandists complaining that the masses are not happy with having their plight groveled in their faces like they should be while the rich, well, while away in luxury and comfort.  

But not all life is political, or rather not all music lends itself to some kind of explicit political meaning yet speaks to, let’s say, the poor sharecropper at the juke joint on Saturday listening to the country blues, unplugged, kids at the jukebox listening to high be-bop swing, other kids listening, maybe at that same jukebox now worn with play and coins listening to some guys from some Memphis record company rocking and rolling, or adults spending some dough to hear the latest from Tin Pan Alley or the Broadway musical. And so they too while away to the various aspects of the American songbook and that rich tradition is which in honored here.   



This series which could include some protest songs as well is centered on roots music as it has come down the ages and formed the core of the American songbook. You will find the odd, the eccentric, the forebears of later musical trends, and the just plain amusing here. Listen up. 

These  are the lyrics-take the "n" word part as you will but that is what he wrote.



The Bourgeois Blues

Lord, in a bourgeois town
It's a bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say "I don't want no niggers up there"
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a nigger just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the  

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

*On The Question Of The "N" Word- A Guest Commentary

Click on title to link to an article reprinted from Young Spartacus pages of Workers Vanguard No. 807, 1 August 2003, "The "N" Word In Racist America".

Markin comment:

In an entry today concerning Lead Belly's classic, "Bourgeois Blues", I let his original lyrics remain. I also pointed out that I have many political, social and personal family reasons for not liking or using the word. I, generally, agree with the sentiments in the linked article on this subject. Read on.

* Sometimes It Takes A Song To Tell The Political Truth- Lead Belly's "Bourgeois Blues"

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Lead Belly performing "Bourgeois Blues". Those offended by the "n" word, as I am for a whole bunch of current social, political and personal reasons, hold your noses BUT listen this is the artist at work. Let him tell it his way.

Markin comment:

Some days it takes a song to kind of put things in political perspective. I ran across this old Lead Belly tune written by him after he was constantly subject to Jim Crow legal and social segregation sanctions in Washington, D.C. and elsewhere. Although today there is a black face in the White House for most blacks (just look at the scary unemployment numbers for blacks for one thing), other minorities and the rest of us this song is a simple truth about where we stand today. Change the "n" word and it fits many of us. Time to get moving on that socialist agenda to turn things around. And by the way, Mr. President, get the troops the hell out of Afghanistan now.


"Bourgeois Blues"

Me and my wife went all over town
And everywhere we went people turned us down
Lord, in a bourgeois town
It's a bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say'n I don't want no niggers up there
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a nigger just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC
'Cause it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Friday, June 05, 2009

*He's Got Them "Bourgeois Blues"- The Music Of Lead Belly

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Clip Of Lead Belly Doing "Bourgeois Blues".

CD REVIEW

The Bourgeois Blues, Lead Belly, St. Clair Records, 2005


This major part of this review has been used previously to look at other Lead Belly (and Woody Guthrie) materials in order to give the pair their proper due as the “first wave” folk revivalists that those of us from the “Generation of ‘68” gravitated to when Bobby Dee, Bobby Darin and others pop teenage singers from the early 1960’s stopped “speaking” to us. With the exception of the point about the Smithsonian booklet the points raised there can serve here for Lead Belly alone.


“If any of the older generation, the “Generation of ‘68” needs an introduction to Woody Guthrie or Lead Belly then I ask what planet have you been on. Woody’s “This Land Is Your Land” is practically a national anthem (and in some quarters is just that). And Lead Belly’s “Goodnight, Irene” is in that same category. So to have the two highlighted on one program, as they had been in life on a number of occasions is a treat. This tribute has the further virtue of highlighting original performances by them unlike a DVD documentary and accompanying CD “A Shared Vision” reviewed earlier in this space that was composed of tribute performances by some of those who, like John Mellencamp, have been influenced by their work, individually or collectively.

As always with a Smithsonian/Folkways production the CD includes a booklet of copious liner notes that detail, for the folk historian or the novice alike, the history of each song and its genesis. I am always surprised by the insightful detail provided and as much as I know about this milieu always find something new in them. Moreover, the information here provided inevitably details the rather mundane genesis of some very famous songs. Here, for example, “Bring Me Little Water, Sylvie” is just what it says back in Lead Belly’s old family farm hand days.”

I do not believe that I need to detail the work of Lead Belly but will finish with a note of what you should make sure to hear. “Goodnight, Irene” and “John Hardy”, of course. “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” has aged well. All of this is rounded out by a Lead Belly classic “The Bourgeois Blues” about the fate of blacks trying to live in Washington, D.C. in the old days (1930’s) that seems to resonant today to my ear, at least politically.


Just in case you don't want to take my word for it here are the lyrics.

Lead Belly - The Bourgeois Blues Lyrics

Lord, in a bourgeois town
It's a bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say "I don't want no n----rs up there"
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a n----r just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC
`Cause it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Alabama Bound lyrics

I'm Alabama bound
I'm Alabama bound
And if the train don't stop and turn around
I'm Alabama bound
Oh, don't you leave me here
Oh, don't you leave me here
But if you must go anyhow
Just leave a dime for beer
Oh don't you be like me
Oh don't you be like me
Drink your good sweet cherry wine
And let that whiskey be
Well your hair don't curve
And your eyes ain't blue
Well if you don't want me, Polly Ann
Well I don't want you


Rock Island Line lyrics

Cat's in the cupboard and she can't find me
Oh the Rock Island Line is a mighty fine line
Oh the Rock Island Line is the road to ride
If you want to ride, you gotta ride it like you're flyin'
Get your ticket at the station on the Rock Island Line
Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong
Lawd you gonna miss me when I'm gone
Oh the Rock Island Line is a mighty fine line
Oh the Rock Island Line is the road to ride
If you want to ride, you gotta ride it like you're flyin'
Get your ticket at the station on the Rock Island Line
Jesus died to save our sins
Glory to God I'm gonna see Him again
Oh the Rock Island Line is a mighty fine line
Oh the Rock Island Line is the road to ride
If you want to ride, you gotta ride it like you're flyin'
Get your ticket at the station on the Rock Island Line
Moses stood on the Red Sea shore
Smothin' the water with a two-by-four
Oh the Rock Island Line is a mighty fine line
Oh the Rock Island Line is the road to ride
If you want to ride, you gotta ride it like you're flyin'
Get your ticket at the station on the Rock Island Line


Take This Hammer lyrics

Take this hammer, carry it to the captain
Take this hammer, carry it to the captain
Take this hammer, carry it to the captain
Tell him I'm gone
Tell him I'm gone
If he asks you was I runnin'
If he asks you was I runnin'
If he asks you was I runnin'
Tell him I was flyin'
Tell him I was flyin'
If he asks you was I laughin'
If he asks you was I laughin'
If he asks you was I laughin'
Tell him I was cryin'
Tell him I was cryin'
They wanna feed me cornbread and molasses
They wanna feed me cornbread and molasses
They wanna feed me cornbread and molasses
But I got my pride
Well, I got my pride


(Good Night) Irene lyrics


Last Saturday night, I got married,
Me and my wife settled down
Now me and my wife are parted,
I'm gonna take another stroll downtown
Sometimes I live in the country,
Sometimes I live in town
Sometimes I take a great notion,
To jump into the river and drown
I love Irene, God knows I do,
I'll love her till the seas run dry
But if Irene should turn me down,
I'd take the morphine and die
Stop rambling, stop your gambling,
Stop staying out late at night
Go home to your wife and your family,

Saturday, March 07, 2009

*The First Folk Wave- Woody Guthrie and Lead Belly

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Lead Belly performing "Bourgeois Blues".

CD REVIEW

Folkways: The Original Vision-Songs Of Woody Guthrie and Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly, Smithsonian/Folkways, 2005


If any of the older generation, the “Generation of ‘68” needs an introduction to Woody Guthrie or Lead Belly then I ask what planet have you been on. Woody’s “This Land Is Your Land” is practically a national anthem (and in some quarters is just that). And Leadbelly’s “Goodnight, Irene” is in that same category. So to have the two highlighted on one program, as they had been in life on a number of occasions is a treat. This tribute has the further virtue of highlighting original performances by them unlike a DVD documentary and and accompanying CD “A Shared Vision” reviewed earlier in this space that was composed of tribute performances by some of those who, like John Mellencamp, have been influenced by their work, individually or collectively.

As always with a Smithsonian/Folkways production the CD includes a booklet of copious liner notes that detail, for the folk historian or the novice alike, the history of each song and its genesis. I am always surprised by the insightful detail provided and as much as I know about this milieu always find something new in them. Moreover, the information here provided inevitably details the rather mundane genesis of some very famous songs. Here, for example, “Bring Me Little Water, Sylvie” is just what it says back in Lead Belly’s old family farm hand days.

I do not believe that I need to detail the work of these two artists but will finish with a note of what you should make sure to hear. “Goodnight, Irene” and “This Land Is Your Land”, of course. “Rock Island Line” has aged well, as has “Do-Re-Mi”. A Woody ‘talking blues’, “Talking Hard Work”, will strike your funny bone. Lead Belly’s “Midnight Special” is fine. All of this is rounded out by a Woody/Lead Belly duet on “We Shall Be Free” that has subsequently been covered by many folkies, young and old.


Lead Belly - The Bourgeois Blues Lyrics

Lord, in a bourgeois town
It's a bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say "I don't want no n----rs up there"
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a n----r just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC
`Cause it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

"This Land Is Your Land"-Woody Guthrie

This land is your land This land is my land
From California to the New York island;
From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and Me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway,
I saw above me that endless skyway:
I saw below me that golden valley:
This land was made for you and me.

I've roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;
And all around me a voice was sounding:
This land was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,
As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.

Deportee (Plane Wreck At Los Gatos)

The crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning,
The oranges piled in their creosote dumps;
They're flying 'em back to the Mexican border
To pay all their money to wade back again

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria;
You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane,
All they will call you will be "deportees"

My father's own father, he waded that river,
They took all the money he made in his life;
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees,
And they rode the truck till they took down and died.

Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
Our work contract's out and we have to move on;
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border,
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

We died in your hills, we died in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and died on your plains.
We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died just the same.

The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills,
Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves?
The radio says, "They are just deportees"

Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves to rot on my topsoil
And be called by no name except "deportees"?

Words by Woody Guthrie and Music by Martin Hoffman
© 1961 (renewed) by TRO-Ludlow Music, Inc.

Hard Travelin'

I've been havin' some hard travelin', I thought you knowed
I've been havin' some hard travelin', way down the road
I've been havin' some hard travelin', hard ramblin', hard gamblin'
I've been havin' some hard travelin', lord

I've been ridin' them fast rattlers, I thought you knowed
I've been ridin' them flat wheelers, way down the road
I've been ridin' them blind passengers, dead-enders, kickin' up cinders
I've been havin' some hard travelin', lord

I've been hittin' some hard-rock minin', I thought you knowed
I've been leanin' on a pressure drill, way down the road
Hammer flyin', air-hose suckin', six foot of mud and I shore been a muckin'
And I've been hittin' some hard travelin', lord

I've been hittin' some hard harvestin', I thought you knowed
North Dakota to Kansas City, way down the road
Cuttin' that wheat, stackin' that hay, and I'm tryin' make about a dollar a day
And I've been havin' some hard travelin', lord

I've been working that Pittsburgh steel, I thought you knowed
I've been a dumpin' that red-hot slag, way down the road
I've been a blasting, I've been a firin', I've been a pourin' red-hot iron
I've been hittin' some hard travelin', lord

I've been layin' in a hard-rock jail, I thought you knowed
I've been a laying out 90 days, way down the road
Damned old judge, he said to me, "It's 90 days for vagrancy."
And I've been hittin' some hard travelin', lord

I've been walking that Lincoln highway, I thought you knowed,
I've been hittin' that 66, way down the road
Heavy load and a worried mind, lookin' for a woman that's hard to find,
I've been hittin' some hard travelin', lord



Ludlow Massacre

It was early springtime when the strike was on,
They drove us miners out of doors,
Out from the houses that the Company owned,
We moved into tents up at old Ludlow.

I was worried bad about my children,
Soldiers guarding the railroad bridge,
Every once in a while a bullet would fly,
Kick up gravel under my feet.

We were so afraid you would kill our children,
We dug us a cave that was seven foot deep,
Carried our young ones and pregnant women
Down inside the cave to sleep.

That very night your soldiers waited,
Until all us miners were asleep,
You snuck around our little tent town,
Soaked our tents with your kerosene.

You struck a match and in the blaze that started,
You pulled the triggers of your gatling guns,
I made a run for the children but the fire wall stopped me.
Thirteen children died from your guns.

I carried my blanket to a wire fence corner,
Watched the fire till the blaze died down,
I helped some people drag their belongings,
While your bullets killed us all around.

I never will forget the look on the faces
Of the men and women that awful day,
When we stood around to preach their funerals,
And lay the corpses of the dead away.

We told the Colorado Governor to call the President,
Tell him to call off his National Guard,
But the National Guard belonged to the Governor,
So he didn't try so very hard.

Our women from Trinidad they hauled some potatoes,
Up to Walsenburg in a little cart,
They sold their potatoes and brought some guns back,
And they put a gun in every hand.

The state soldiers jumped us in a wire fence corners,
They did not know we had these guns,
And the Red-neck Miners mowed down these troopers,
You should have seen those poor boys run.

We took some cement and walled that cave up,
Where you killed these thirteen children inside,
I said, "God bless the Mine Workers' Union,"
And then I hung my head and cried.

1913 Massacre

Take a trip with me in 1913,
To Calumet, Michigan, in the copper country.
I will take you to a place called Italian Hall,
Where the miners are having their big Christmas ball.

I will take you in a door and up a high stairs,
Singing and dancing is heard everywhere,
I will let you shake hands with the people you see,
And watch the kids dance around the big Christmas tree.

You ask about work and you ask about pay,
They'll tell you they make less than a dollar a day,
Working the copper claims, risking their lives,
So it's fun to spend Christmas with children and wives.

There's talking and laughing and songs in the air,
And the spirit of Christmas is there everywhere,
Before you know it you're friends with us all,
And you're dancing around and around in the hall.

Well a little girl sits down by the Christmas tree lights,
To play the piano so you gotta keep quiet,
To hear all this fun you would not realize,
That the copper boss' thug men are milling outside.

The copper boss' thugs stuck their heads in the door,
One of them yelled and he screamed, "there's a fire,"
A lady she hollered, "there's no such a thing.
Keep on with your party, there's no such thing."

A few people rushed and it was only a few,
"It's just the thugs and the scabs fooling you,"
A man grabbed his daughter and carried her down,
But the thugs held the door and he could not get out.

And then others followed, a hundred or more,
But most everybody remained on the floor,
The gun thugs they laughed at their murderous joke,
While the children were smothered on the stairs by the door.

Such a terrible sight I never did see,
We carried our children back up to their tree,
The scabs outside still laughed at their spree,
And the children that died there were seventy-three.

The piano played a slow funeral tune,
And the town was lit up by a cold Christmas moon,
The parents they cried and the miners they moaned,
"See what your greed for money has done."

Oklahoma Hills

Many a month has come and gone
Since I wandered from my home
In those Oklahoma hills where I was born.
Many a page of life has turned,
Many a lesson I have learned;
Well, I feel like in those hills I still belong.

'Way down yonder in the Indian Nation
Ridin' my pony on the reservation,
In those Oklahoma hills where I was born.
Now, 'way down yonder in the Indian Nation,
A cowboy's life is my occupation,
In those Oklahoma hills where I was born.

But as I sit here today,
Many miles I am away
From a place I rode my pony through the draw,
While the oak and blackjack trees
Kiss the playful prairie breeze,
In those Oklahoma hills where I was born.

Now as I turn life a page
To the land of the great Osage
In those Oklahoma hills where I was born,
While the black oil it rolls and flows
And the snow-white cotton grows
In those Oklahoma hills where I was born.



Words and Music by Woody Guthrie and Jack Guthrie
© Copyright 1945 (renewed) by Woody Guthrie Publications , Inc.
and Michael Goldsen Music Inc / Warner-Chappell Music


Pastures Of Plenty

It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold

I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
On the edge of the city you'll see us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind

California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
To set on your table your light sparkling wine

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win

It's always we rambled, that river and I
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
My land I'll defend with my life if it be
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free

Pretty Boy Floyd

If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.

It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.

There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard.

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.

Then he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.

But a many a starving farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.

Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand dollar bill.

It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:

Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.

Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.

And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.

Union Maid

There once was a union maid, she never was afraid
Of goons and ginks and company finks and the deputy sheriffs who made the raid.
She went to the union hall when a meeting it was called,
And when the Legion boys come 'round
She always stood her ground.

Oh, you can't scare me, I'm sticking to the union,
I'm sticking to the union, I'm sticking to the union.
Oh, you can't scare me, I'm sticking to the union,
I'm sticking to the union 'til the day I die.

This union maid was wise to the tricks of company spies,
She couldn't be fooled by a company stool, she'd always organize the guys.
She always got her way when she struck for better pay.
She'd show her card to the National Guard
And this is what she'd say

You gals who want to be free, just take a tip from me;
Get you a man who's a union man and join the ladies' auxiliary.
Married life ain't hard when you got a union card,
A union man has a happy life when he's got a union wife.

Friday, February 27, 2009

He's Got Them "Bourgeois Blues"- Kudos to Lead Belly

As today's commentary "The Times Are Out Of Joint" indicates I am in a peevish mood concerning the doings (or not doings) in Washington, D.C. I'll just take a note from Lead Belly, the old folk singer, and let him give the 'skinny' on this mood of mine.

Lead Belly - The Bourgeois Blues Lyrics

Lord, in a bourgeois town
It's a bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say "I don't want no n----rs up there"
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a n----r just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC
`Cause it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around

Saturday, March 01, 2008

The "First Wave" Folk Revival- In Honor Of Woody Guthrie and Lead Belly

DVD/CD REVIEWS

A Shared Vision:Woody Guthrie and Leadbelly Tribute, 1988

If any of the older generation needs an introduction to Woody Guthrie or Leadbelly then I ask what planet have you been on. Woody’s "This Land Is Your Land" is practically a national anthem (and is just that in some quarters). And Leadbelly’s "Goodnight, Irene" is in that same category. So to have the two highlighted on one program, as they had been in life on a number of occasions, is a treat. This tribute has the further virtue of highlighting both original performances by them and tribute performances by some of these who have been influenced by their work, individually or collectively.

Anytime you get Taj Mahal, Little Richard, Sweet Honey in the Rock (a real treat as I was not familiar with their work), Pete Seeger, Bruce Springsteen and a host of others under one cinematic roof you are bound to have a good performance. And added attraction was the appearance of Arlo Guthrie, Woody’s son and a folk legend in his own right, commenting on his father’s work. And, of course, an all too brief recorded performance by Bob Dylan, a man who probably did more to revive Woody’s work in the 1960’s than any other. For my money though, John Mellencamp and his ensemble band (including washboard player) stole the show at the end with their rendition of the afore-mentioned "This Land Is Your Land". Watch it.


The First Folk Wave- Woody Guthrie And Lead Belly

Folkways: The Original Vision-Songs Of Woody Guthrie and Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly, Smithsonian/Folkways, 2005


If any of the older generation, the “Generation of ‘68” needs an introduction to Woody Guthrie or Lead Belly then I ask what planet have you been on. Woody’s “This Land Is Your Land” is practically a national anthem (and in some quarters is just that). And Leadbelly’s “Goodnight, Irene” is in that same category. So to have the two highlighted on one program, as they had been in life on a number of occasions is a treat. This tribute has the further virtue of highlighting original performances by them unlike a documentary and CD “A Shared Vision” reviewed earlier in this space that was composed of tribute performances by some of those who, like John Mellencamp, have been influenced by their work, individually or collectively.

As always with a Smithsonian/Folkways production the CD includes a booklet of copious liner notes that detail, for the folk historian or the novice alike, the history of each song and its genesis. I am always surprised by the insightful detail provided and as much as I know about this milieu always find something new in them. Moreover, the information here provided inevitably details the rather mundane genesis of some very famous songs. Here, for example, “Bring Me Little Water, Sylvie” is just what it says back in Lead Belly’s old family farm hand days.

I do not believe that I need to detail the work of these two artists but will finish with a note of what you should make sure to hear. “Goodnight, Irene” and “This Land Is Your Land”, of course. “Rock Island Line” has aged well, as has “Do-Re-Mi”. A Woody ‘talking blues’, “Talking Hard Work”, will strike your funny bone. Lead Belly’s “Midnight Special” is fine. All of this is rounded out by a Woody/Lead Belly duet on “We Shall Be Free” that has subsequently been covered by many folkies, young and old.