Showing posts with label Mississippi John Hurt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mississippi John Hurt. 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.

Sunday, July 07, 2019

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- *The Folk Historian On Camera- Pete Seeger Back In The Days

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Sonny Terry And Brownie McGhee Doing "Hootin' The Blues".

DVD REVIEW

Rainbow Quest: Sonny Terry/Brownie McGhee, Hedy West, Mississippi John Hurt, Paul Cardwell and hosted by Pete Seeger, Shanachie Entertainment, 2005


In a year that has featured various 90th birthday celebrations it is very appropriate to review some of the 1960’s television work of Pete Seeger, one of the premier folk anthologists, singers, transmitters of the tradition and “keeper” of the folk flame. This DVD is a “must see” for anyone who is interested in the history of the folk revival of the 1960’s , the earnest, folksy style of Pete Seeger or the work of Mississippi John Hurt, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, Hedy West or banjoist Paul Cardwell.

This DVD contains some very interesting and, perhaps, rare television film footage from two Pete Seeger shows entitled “Rainbow Quest”. Each show is introduced (and ends, as well) by Pete singing his old classic “If Oh I Had A Golden Thread” and then he proceeds to introduce and play banjo along with the above-mentioned artists. No date is given (as far as I could find) but these shows must have been fairly early in the 1960’s because I believe that John Hurt died in about 1964 or 1965.

Pete’s relationship with Sonny and Brownie went back to the days of the Almanac Singers (that included Woody Guthrie) and New York City in the early 1940’s. That segment gives some details about various goings on of those times and the genesis of some of the songs that are sung in the set. I have read elsewhere that at some point in their joint careers Sonny and Brownie stopped talking to each other even as they continued their professional lives together. Here, at least, they appeared to be civil to each other as the combination of Brownie’s guitar and vocals, Sonny’s smokin’ harmonica and accompaniment by Pete on the banjo is a rare treat.

The second segment is a little less entertaining as Pete introduces the mountain banjo man Crawford doing traditional reels and jigs and Hedy West doing a couple of numbers . Then there is a magic moment. Mississippi John Hurt, with his clean, simple guitar picking, doing “ Lonesome Valley”. Wow. And then ending with his version of Lead Belly’s “Goodnight, Irene” (with the others joining in). These, alone, are worth the price of admission. Wow, again.

One final note. This is a piece of folk history. Pete Seeger is a folk legend. However, the production values here are a bit primitive and low budget. Moreover, for all his stature as a leading member of the folk pantheon Pete was far from the ideal host. His halting speaking style and almost bashful manner did not draw his guests out. Let’s just put it this way the production concept used then would embarrass a high school television production class today. But, Pete, thanks for the history lesson.

Ain't no tellin

Don't you let my good girl catch you here.
Don't you let my good girl catch you here.
She might shoot you, may cut ya and starve you too.
Ain't no tellin, what, she might do.

I'm up the country where the col' sleet and snow.
I'm up the country where the col' sleet and snow.
Ain't no telling how much further I may go.

Eatin' my breakfast here, my dinner in Tennessee.
Eatin' my breakfast here, my dinner in Tennessee.
I tol' you I was comin', baby, won't you look for me.
Hey, hey, such lookin' the class.

The way I'm sleepin' my back and shoulders tired.
Way I'm sleepin' babe, my back and shoulders tired.
Gonna turn over, try it on the side.

Don't you let, my good girl catch you here.
She, might shoot you, may cut you and starve you too.
Ain't no tellin', what, she might do.

Ain't nobody but you baby

Chorus:
Ain't nobody but you baby,
Ain't nobody but you,.
Ain't nobody but you,
Ain't nobody but you.

I got a letter last night,
I got a letter last night,
I got a letter last night,
How do you reckon it read?

chorus

I went down to the ball,
Went down to the ball last night.

chorus

Avalon Blues
written by: Mississippi John Hurt

Got to New York this mornin', just about half-past nine
Got to New York this mornin', just about half-past nine
Hollerin' one mornin' in
Avalon
, couldn't hardly keep from cryin'
Avalon is my hometown, always on my mind
Avalon is my hometown, always on my mind
Pretty mama's in Avalon want me there all the time
When the train left Avalon, throwin' kisses and wavin' at me
When the train left Avalon, throwin' kisses and wavin' at me
Says, "Come back, daddy, and stay right here with me"
Avalon's a small town, have no great big range
Avalon's a small town, have no great big range
Pretty mama's in Avalon, they sure will spend your change
New York's a good town, but it's not for mine
New York's a good town, but it's not for mine
Goin' back to Avalon, near where I have a pretty mama all the time

Big Leg Blues
written by: Mississippi John Hurt

Raise up, baby, get your big leg offa mine
Raise up, baby, get your big leg offa mine
They're so heavy, make a good man change his mind
I asked you, baby, to come and hold my head
I ask you, baby, to come and hold my head
Send me word that you'd rather see me dead
I'm goin', I'm goin', your cryin' won't make me stay
I'm goin', I'm goin', cryin' won't make me stay
More you cry, the further you drive me away
Some crave
high yellow
, I like black and brown
Some crave high yellow, I like black and brown
Black won't quit you, brown won't lay you down
It was late at midnight and the moon shine bright like day
It was late at midnight and moon shine bright like day
I seen your
faror
goin' up the right of way


Candy Man Blues

written by: Mississippi John Hurt


Well all you ladies gather 'round
That good sweet candy man's in town
It's the candy man
It's the candy man
He likes a stick of candy just nine inch long
He sells as fast a hog can chew his corn
It's the candy man...
All heard what sister Johnson said
She always takes a candy stick to bed
Don't stand close to the candy man
He'll leave a big candy stick in your hand
He sold some candy to sister Bad
The very next day she took all he had
If you try his candy, good friend of mine,
you sure will want it for a long long time
His stick candy don't melt away
It just gets better, so the ladies say
go to top of page


Casey Jones

written by: Mississippi John Hurt


Casey Jones was a brave engineer,
he told his fireman to not to fear
Says, "All I want, my water and my coal
Look out the window, see my drive wheel roll"
Early one mornin' came a shower of rain,
'round the curve I seen a passenger train
In the cabin was Casey Jones,
he's a noble engineer man but he's dead and gone
"Children, children, get your hat"
Mama, mama, what you mean by that?"
"Get your hat , put it on your head,
go down in town, see if your daddy's dead"
"Mama, mama, how can it be?
My daddy got killed on the old I.C.
"Hush your mouth and hold your breath,
you're gonna draw a pension after your daddy's dead"
Casey's wife, she got the news,
she was sittin' on the bedside,
she was lacin' up her shoes
I said, "Go away, children, and hold your breath,
you're gonna draw a pension after your daddy's dead"
Casey said, before he died,
fixed the
blinds so the boys can't ride
If they ride, let 'em ride the rod,
trust they lives in the hands of God"
Casey said again, before he died,
one more road that he wanted to ride
People wondered what road could that be?
The Gulf Colorado and the Santa Fe
Casey Jones was a brave engineer,
he told his fireman to not to fear
Says, "All I want, my water and my coal
Look out the window, see my drive wheel roll"
go to top of page


Coffee Blues

written by: Mississippi John Hurt


(spoken:
This is the "Coffee Blues", I likes a certain brand
- Maxwell's House - it's good till the last drop,
just like it says on the can. I used to have a girl
cookin' a good Maxwell House. She moved away.
Some said to
Memphis
and some said to Leland,
but I found her. I wanted her to cook me some
good Maxwell's House. You understand,
if I can get me just a spoonful of Maxwell's House,
do me much good as two or three cups this other coffee)
I've got to go to Memphis, bring her back to
Leland
I wanna see my baby 'bout a lovin'
spoonful
, my lovin' spoonful
Well, I'm just got to have my lovin'
(spoken: I found her)
Good mornin', baby, how you do this mornin'?
Well, please, ma'am, just a lovin' spoon,
just a lovin' spoonful
I declare, I got to have my lovin' spoonful
My baby packed her suitcase and she went away
I couldn't let her stay for my lovin',
my lovin' spoonful
Well, I'm just got to have my lovin'
Good mornin', baby, how you do this mornin'?
Well, please, ma'am, just a lovin' spoon,
just a lovin' spoonful
I declare, I got to have my lovin' spoonful
Well, the preacher in the pulpit, jumpin' up and down
He laid his bible down for his lovin'
(spoken: Ain't Maxwell House all right?)
Well, I'm just got to have my lovin'


Corrina, Corrina

traditional


Corrina, Corrina, where'd you stay last night?
Corrina, Corrina, where'd you stay last night?
Come in this morning, clothes ain't fittin' you right
I left Corrina, way across the sea
I left Corrina, way across the sea
She wouldn't write me no letter, she don't care for me
Oh Corrina, Corrina, where you been so long?
Oh Corrina, Corrina, where you been so long?
She wouldn't write me no letter, she don't care for me
Corrina, Corrina, where'd you stay last night?
Corrina, Corrina, where'd you stay last night?
Come in this morning, clothes ain't fittin' you right
go to top of page


Frankie

written by: Mississippi John Hurt


(spoken introduction:
"Frankie and Albert", the same thing as "Frankie and Johnnie")
Frankie was a good girl, everybody know,
she paid one hundred dollars for Albert's suit of clothes
He's her man, but he did her wrong
Frankie went down to the corner saloon, she ordered her a glass of beer,
she asked the barkeeper, "Gas my lovin' Albert been here?"
"He been here, but he's gone again"
"Ain't gonna tell you no story, Frankie, I ain't gonna tell you no lie"
Says, "Albert a-passed about a hour ago, with a girl you call Alice Frye
He's your man, and he's doin' you wrong
Frankie went down to the corner saloon, she didn't go to be gone long
She peeked through keyhole in the door, spied Albert in Alice's arm
He's my man, and you's doin' me wrong
Frankie called Albert, she shot him three or four times,
says, "Stand back, I'm smokin' my gun, let me see is Albert dyin'
He's my man, and he did me wrong"
Frankie and the judge walked outta the stand, and walked out side by side
The judge says, "Frankie, you're gonna be justified,
killin' a man, and he did you wrong"
Frankie was a good girl, everybody know,
she paid one hundred dollars for Albert's suit of clothes
He's her man, but he did her wrong
Said, "Turn me over, mother, turn me over slow,
it may be my last time, you won't turn me no more
He's my man, and he did me wrong"
Says, Frankie was a good girl, everybody know,
she paid one hundred dollars for Albert's suit of clothes
He's her man, but he did her wrong
go to top of page

Saturday, July 06, 2019

Happy Birthday Mississippi John Hurt *Sweet and Low- The Blues of Skip James-Part One

Happy Birthday To You-

By Lester Lannon

I am devoted to a local folk station WUMB which is run out of the campus of U/Mass-Boston over near Boston Harbor. At one time this station was an independent one based in Cambridge but went under when their significant demographic base deserted or just passed on once the remnant of the folk minute really did sink below the horizon.

So much for radio folk history except to say that the DJs on many of the programs go out of their ways to commemorate or celebrate the birthdays of many folk, rock, blues and related genre artists. So many and so often that I have had a hard time keeping up with noting those occurrences in this space which after all is dedicated to such happening along the historical continuum.

To “solve” this problem I have decided to send birthday to that grouping of musicians on an arbitrary basis as I come across their names in other contents or as someone here has written about them and we have them in the archives. This may not be the best way to acknowledge them, but it does do so in a respectful manner.    

 *************


Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Skip James Doing "Devil Got My Woman" At The Newport Folk Festival in 1966.


CD REVIEW


Devil Got My Woman, Skip James, Vanguard records, 1991

"I'd Rather Be The Devil Than Be That Woman's Man"


The last time that I used this above-titled headline was in a commentary related to Senator Hillary Clinton's late presidential campaign and I caught hell from my feminist friends for it. So I add here blues singer/songwriter Rory Block's translation on her cover version for "political correctness". Okay? "I'd Rather Be The Devil, Than Be A Woman To That Man." I would add, that one is dealing with the blues we are not talking about any kind of sense of political correctness but the primordial longings unvarnished by the political niceties of that day or this. But enough of that. Let's talk about the legendary Skip James' work.

For those who saw Martin Scorsese's six-part blues series on PBS you know that one of the segments was directed by Wim Wender's who chose the work of Skip James as a subject for presentation. There Skip's very short recording career (as it turns out early recording career) was highlighted. As others have mentioned Skip James was a Baptist preacher, not a professional musician, so aside from the incredible recordings he made for Paramount Records in 1931, he wasn't widely sought after as a performer until the blues revival of the late '50s and early '60s. At that time he came front and center with fellow "discovered" artists like Mississippi John Hurt, Bukka White and Son House. That is the company he properly belongs in and should be compared to.

The contents of this CD only confirm that evaluation. His great falsetto voice accompanied by guitar or piano (as a nice change up) hold forth here. Interestingly, the CD features newer arrangements of several songs from James' 1931 Paramount recording, like the well-known title track "Devil Got My Woman" that got me into political trouble. There are also some moodier songs for piano here like the "22-20 Blues" and "Careless Love". Here, though, is the "skinny" on James. Like a number of blues artists you have to be in the mood and be patience. Then you don't want to turn the damn thing off. That is the case here.

Friday, July 05, 2019

Happy Birthday Mississippi John Hurt-*Sweet and Low- The Blues of Skip James-Part Three

Happy Birthday To You-

By Lester Lannon

I am devoted to a local folk station WUMB which is run out of the campus of U/Mass-Boston over near Boston Harbor. At one time this station was an independent one based in Cambridge but went under when their significant demographic base deserted or just passed on once the remnant of the folk minute really did sink below the horizon.

So much for radio folk history except to say that the DJs on many of the programs go out of their ways to commemorate or celebrate the birthdays of many folk, rock, blues and related genre artists. So many and so often that I have had a hard time keeping up with noting those occurrences in this space which after all is dedicated to such happening along the historical continuum.

To “solve” this problem I have decided to send birthday to that grouping of musicians on an arbitrary basis as I come across their names in other contents or as someone here has written about them and we have them in the archives. This may not be the best way to acknowledge them, but it does do so in a respectful manner.    




Happy Birthday Mississippi John Hurt-*Sweet and Low- The Blues of Skip James-Part Three

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Skip James Doing "Crow Jane".


Heroes Of The Blues: The Very Best Of Skip James, Skip James, Shout Factory, 2003


The contents of this CD only confirm Skip's power. His great falsetto voice accompanied by guitar or piano (as a nice change up) hold forth here. Interestingly, the CD features newer arrangements of several songs from James' 1931 Paramount recording, like the well-known title track "61 Highway” (this is the most fervent rendition of several that I have heard on various CD compilations. By the way Mississippi Fred McDowell does a tanked up version of this one, as well). There are also some moodier songs for piano here like the "22-20 Blues" and "Illinois Blues”. Also featured here is the classic “I’m So Glad” that Cream turned into a rock classic. The killer on this one though is the haunting “Cherry Ball Blues”. Here is the “skinny” though on James. Like a number of blues artists you have to be in the mood and be patience. Then you don’t want to turn the damn thing off. That is the case here.

Thursday, July 04, 2019

Happy Birthday Mississippi John Hurt- *Sweet and Low- The Blues of Skip James-Part Two

Happy Birthday To You-

By Lester Lannon

I am devoted to a local folk station WUMB which is run out of the campus of U/Mass-Boston over near Boston Harbor. At one time this station was an independent one based in Cambridge but went under when their significant demographic base deserted or just passed on once the remnant of the folk minute really did sink below the horizon.

So much for radio folk history except to say that the DJs on many of the programs go out of their ways to commemorate or celebrate the birthdays of many folk, rock, blues and related genre artists. So many and so often that I have had a hard time keeping up with noting those occurrences in this space which after all is dedicated to such happening along the historical continuum.

To “solve” this problem I have decided to send birthday to that grouping of musicians on an arbitrary basis as I come across their names in other contents or as someone here has written about them and we have them in the archives. This may not be the best way to acknowledge them, but it does do so in a respectful manner.    



Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Skip James Doing "Hard Times Killin' Floor Blues". Wow.


The Complete Early Recordings of Skip James-1930, Skip James, Yazoo, 1994


The contents of this CD only confirm Skip's power. His great falsetto voice accompanied by guitar or piano (as a nice change up) hold forth here. Interestingly, the CD features newer arrangements of several songs from James' 1931 Paramount recording, like the well-known title track "Devil Got My Woman" that got me into political trouble (this is the most fervent rendition of several that I have heard on various CD compilations). There are also some moodier songs for piano here like the "22-20 Blues" and "Illinois Blues”. Also featured here is the classic “I’m So Glad” that Cream turned into a rock classic. The killer on this one though is the haunting “Cherry Ball Blues”. Here is the “skinny” though on James. Like a number of blues artists you have to be in the mood and be patience. Then you don’t want to turn the damn thing off. That is the case here.

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

For Bob Dylan*Tribute Album Potpourri- A Tip Of The Hat To Bob Dylan- A Voice Of His Generation

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan Doing "Boots Of Spanish Leather".

CD REVIEW

This Is Part Of A Four Artist Tribute Album Potpourri- A Tip Of The Hat To Hank Williams, Mississippi John Hurt, Bob Dylan and Greg Brown.

A musical performer knows that he or she has arrived when they have accumulated enough laurels and created enough songs to be worthy, at least in some record producer's eyes, of a tribute album. When they are also alive to accept the accolades as two out of the four of the artists under review are, which in these cases is only proper, that is all to the good. That said, not all tribute albums are created equally. Some are full of star-studded covers, others are filled with lesser lights who have been influenced by the artist that they are paying tribute to. As a general proposition though I find it a fairly rare occurrence, as I have noted in a review of the “Timeless” tribute album to Hank Williams, that the cover artist outdoes the work of the original recording artist. With that point in mind I will give my “skinny” on the cover artists here.

A Voice Of His Generation

Nod To Bob: An Artists’ Tribute To Bob Dylan on his Sixtieth Birthday, various artists, Red House Records, 2001


It seems hard to believe now both in regard to the performer, here Bob Dylan, as well as to what was being attempted that anyone would take umbrage at a performer using an electric guitar to tell a folk story (or any story for that matter). It is not necessary to go into all the details of what or what did not happen with Pete Seeger at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 to know that one should be glad, glad as hell, that Bob Dylan continued to listen to his own drummer and carry on a career based on electronic music.

Others have, endlessly, gone on about Bob Dylan’s role as the voice of his generation (and mine), his lyrics and what they do or do not mean and his place in the rock or folk pantheons, or both. I just want to comment on a few songs and cover artists on this 60th birthday album. Overall this Red House Records (a well-known alternate folk tradition recording outfit) production is a true folkies’ tribute to old Bob where the artists, while well-known in the folk field, probably as not as familiar to the general listener. Nevertheless several covers stick out: John Gorka’s rendition of the longing that pervades “Girl Of The North Country" is fine, as is the desperate longing of Martin Simpson’s “Boots Of Spanish Leather”. Greg Brown does a rousing version of “Pledging My Time” and the long time folk singer Rosalie Sorrels does a very measured version of “Tomorrow Is A Long Time”. The finale is appropriately done by old time folkie, and early Dylan companion on the folk scene, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot with “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” Solid work here. Kudos.

The Times They Are A-Changin'

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

Blowin' In The Wind

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Copyright ©1962; renewed 1990 Special Rider Music


Like A Rolling Stone

Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it
You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Copyright ©1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music

The Answer My Friend Is Blowing (No Clipped “G”) In The Wind-The Influence Of Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin’” On The “Generation of’68”-The Best Part Of That Cohort



Link to NPR Morning Edition 'The Times They Are A-Changin" Still Speaks To Our Changing Times  https://www.npr.org/2018/09/24/650548856/american-anthem-the-times-they-are-a-changin

By Seth Garth
No question this publication both in its former hard copy editions and now more so in the on-line editions as the, ouch, 50th anniversary of many signature events for the “Generation of ‘68” have come and gone that the whole period of the 1950s and 1960s had gotten a full airing. Has been dissected, deflected, inspected, reflected and even rejected beyond compare. That is not to say that this trend won’t continue if for no other reason that the demographics and actual readership response indicate that people still have a desire to not forget their pasts, their youth.
(Under the new site manager Greg Green, despite what I consider all good sense having worked under taskmaster Allan Jackson, we are encouraged to give this blessed readership some inside dope, no, no that kind, about how things are run these days in an on-line publication. With that okay in mind there was a huge controversy that put the last sentence in the above paragraph in some perspective recently when Greg for whatever ill-begotten reason thought that he would try to draw in younger audiences by catering to their predilections-for comic book character movies, video games, graphic novels and trendy music and got nothing but serious blow-back from those who have supported this publication financially and otherwise both in hard copy times and now on-line. What that means as the target demographic fades is another question and maybe one for a future generation who might take over the operation. Or perhaps like many operations this one will not outlast its creators- and their purposes.)    
Today’s 1960s question, a question that I have asked over the years and so I drew the assignment to address the issue-who was the voice of the 1960s. Who or what. Was it the lunchroom sit-inners and Freedom Riders, what it the hippies, was it SDS, the various Weather configurations, acid, rock, folk rock, folk, Tom Hayden, Jane Fonda, Abbie Hoffman, Grace Slick, hell the Three Js-Joplin, Jimi, Jim as in Morrison and the like. Or maybe it was a mood, a mood of disenchantment about a world that seemed out of our control, which seemed to be running without any input from us, without us even being asked. My candidate, and not my only candidate but a recent NPR Morning Edition segment brought the question to mind (see above link), is a song, a song created by Bob Dylan in the early 1960s which was really a clarion call to action on our part, or the best part of our generation-The Times They Are A-Changin’.    
I am not sure if Bob Dylan started out with some oversized desire to be the “voice” of his generation. He certainly blew the whole thing off later after his motorcycle accident and still later when he became a recluse even if he did 200 shows a year, maybe sullen introvert is better, actually maybe his own press agent giving out dribbles is even better but that song, that “anthem” sticks in memory as a decisive summing up of what I was feeling at the time. (And apparently has found resonance with a new generation of activists via the March for Our Lives movement and other youth-driven movements.) As a kid I was antsy to do something, especially once I saw graphic footage on commercial television of young black kids being water-hosed, beaten and bitten by dogs down in the South simply for looking for some rough justice in this wicked old world. Those images, and those of the brave lunch-room sitters and Freedom bus riders were stark and compelling. They and my disquiet over nuclear bombs which were a lot scarier then when there were serious confrontations which put them in play and concern that what bothered me about having no say, about things not being addressed galvanized me.
The song “spoke to me” as it might not have earlier or later. It had the hopeful ring of a promise of a newer world. That didn’t happen or happen in ways that would have helped the mass of humanity but for that moment I flipped out every time I heard it played on the radio or on my old vinyl records record-player. Other songs, events, moods, later would overtake this song’s sentiment but I was there at the creation. Remember that, please.   


For Bob Dylan-Happy Birthday Mississippi John Hurt-Tribute Album Potpourri- A Tip Of The Hat To Greg Brown- Keeping The Folk Tradition Alive

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Greg Brown In Concert.

This Is Part Of A Four Artist Tribute Album Potpourri- A Tip Of The Hat To Hank Williams, Mississippi John Hurt, Bob Dylan and Greg Brown.


CD REVIEW

A musical performer knows that he or she has arrived when they have accumulated enough laurels and created enough songs to be worthy, at least in some record producer's eyes, of a tribute album. When they are also alive to accept the accolades as two out of the four of the artists under review are, which in these cases is only proper, that is all to the good. That said, not all tribute albums are created equally. Some are full of star-studded covers, others are filled with lesser lights who have been influenced by the artist that they are paying tribute to. As a general proposition though I find it a fairly rare occurrence, as I have noted in a review of the “Timeless” tribute album to Hank Williams, that the cover artist outdoes the work of the original recording artist. With that point in mind I will give my “skinny” on the cover artists here.

Keeping The Folk Tradition Alive

Going Driftless: An Artists’ Tribute To Greg Brown, Red House Records, various artists, 2002


The last time that the name Greg Brown, singer/songwriter and free-wheeling homespun philosopher appeared in this space was just recently as I found myself publicly ‘flirting’, via cyberspace of course, with his wife the also accomplished singer/songwriter Iris Dement, my “Arkie Angel” (See my review of her “Infamous Angel” CD). It is all Greg’s fault, in any case. I was ‘introduced’ to Iris on this tribute album “Driftless” where she does a cover of “The Train Carrying Jimmie Rodgers Home” (complete with yodel at the end).

Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown Live” album I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up more in the overt political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy.

So what is good here beside the above-mentioned “Jimmy Rodgers”. This, by the way, is an all women’s tribute album; make of that what you will. Lucinda Williams (as almost always, she does great cover work) on “Lately”. Eliza Gulkinson on “Sleeper”. Listen particularly to Ani DeFranco on the extremely thoughtful “The Poet’s Game” (especially the lines about the strip malls taking over the countryside, a lost poet friendship and that mysterious reference to a New Hampshire night of passion). For the rest Shawn Colvin’s “Say A Little Prayer” sticks out. Listen on.


"Billy From The Hills"

Lyrics to Billy From The Hills :

No one now knows too much about these woods,
They got lost, they wouldn't know where to go.
Tribe's been gone a long time, small farmers got blowed out,
Maybe there ain't even that much left to know.
You can strip the trees, foul the streams, try to hide in a progressive dream.
Ease into the comfort that kills.
Before I do that, I'll grab my pack,
And disappear with Billy from the hills.

Blood flows back and back and back and back,
Like a river from a secret source.
I feel it wild in me; I pitched my camp
At the fork where knowledge meets remorse.
Women sing in me that song from the ancient fire,
I just open my mouth and what comes out gives me chills.
I got my song from a secret place,
I got my face from Billy from the hills.

A 40-inch barrel on that shotgun,
Steel traps in a cane pack on his back.
Eighteen years old, surrounded by the Ozarks,
Ain't one little bit of that boy that's slack.
If you're looking for a helping hand,
He'll give you one, you know he will.
If you're looking for trouble, huh-uh, turn around,
You don't want to mess with Billy from the hills.

Some folks dance cool, all angles and swaying hips,
Sensual as all get out and in.
Me, I'm a hick, and I dance like one,
I just kind of jump around and grin.
I know a guy, he doesn't dance too much,
But when he does, he gives everyone a thrill
You might run away or suck it up and stay,
When he dances, Billy from the hills.

There's a lantern lit on a Missouri night,
A woman writing poems by a stove.
She knows the fox's whereabouts by knoll, by gulch, by yelp,
As he runs at night through her mother love.
Her memory to me is like watercress from a spring-fed stream,
Fresh and aching as a mockingbird's trill.
She lives in me; I try to look until
I can see for her and her boy, Billy from the hills.

It's a drifting time, people are fascinated by screens,
No idea what's on the other side.
We stare at doom like an uptight groom,
And live our lives like a drunken bride.
Tonight I feel something on the wind,
Deep inside where we have to die or kill.
Something I know I didn't know I knew,
I learned from Billy from the hills

Lyrics to Your Town Now :

I used to go out quite a lot,
Chase to chase and shot to shot.
I'm all done with that somehow,
And it's your town now.

These days the mighty eagle sings,
Of money and material things,
And the almighty Dow,
And it's your town now,
Your town now,
It's-

From the mountains to the plains
All the towns are wrapped in chains,
And the little that the law allows,
And it's your town now,
It's your town now,
It's-

Where are the young bands gonna play?
Where're the old beatniks gonna stay,
And not before some corporation bow?
And it's your town now,
It's your town now,
It's-

So be careful everyone,
Cops can get careless with their guns.
And then they slip off somehow,
And it's your town now,
It's your town now,
It's-

You young ones it's up to you
To fight the fight and I hope you do,
Oh I see in your eyes that you know how
And it's your town now
Your town now.

Don't let 'em take the whole damn deal,
Don't give up on what you really feel.
Ah, the small and local must survive somehow,
If it's gonna be your town now.
Is it gonna be your town now?
Is it gonna be your town now?
Is it gonna be?

Lyrics to Mose Allison Played Here :

The joint is a dump
The owner is broke
At least that's what he said
The p.a.'s a joke
The waitpersons are snotty, the bartender's rude
They want to make sure I know they forgot me
But not their attitude
The bellyachers played last night
Everybody got sick
Don't even try dancing, your feet would just stick
The band signs their poster
"fuck u miguel"
And that's all the good part
The bad part's the smell
And what was your name again, oh - yeah - right - brown
Your crowd just drinks water
Surprised you're still around

And nobody's coming, because hey man you see
Advertising's expensive, hey, what guarantee

But as I set up I am proud to be here
Because once last November, Mose Allison played here

Lyrics to The Poet Game :

Down by the river junior year
Walking with my girl,
And we came upon a place
There in the tall grass where a couple
Had been making love
And left the mark of their embrace.
I said to her, "Looks like they had some fun."
She said to me, "Let's do the same."
And still I taste her kisses
And her freckles in the sun
When I play the poet game.

A young man down in hill country
In the year of '22
Went to see his future bride.
She lived in a rough old shack
That poverty blew through.
She invited him inside.
She'd been cooking, ashamed and feeling sad,
She could only offer him bread and her name -
Grandpa said that it was the best gift
A fella ever had
And he taught me the poet game.

I had a friend who drank too much
And played too much guitar -
And we sure got along.
Reel-to-reels rolled across
The country near and far
With letters poems and songs..
But these days he don't talk to me
And he won't tell me why.
I miss him every time i say his name.
I don't know what he's doing
Or why our friendship died
While we played the poet game.

The fall rain was pounding down
On an old New Hampshire mill
And the river wild and high.
I was talking to her while leaves blew down
Like a sudden chill -
There was wildness in her eyes.
We made love like we'd been waiting
All of our lives for this -
Strangers know no shame -
But she had to leave at dawn
And with a sticky farewell kiss
Left me to play the poet game.

I watched my country turn into
A coast-to-coast strip mall
And I cried out in a song:
If we could do all that in thirty years,
Then please tell me you all -
Why does good change take so long?
Why does the color of your skin
Or who you choose to love
Still lead to such anger and pain?
And why do I think it's any help
For me to still dream of
Playing the poet game?

Sirens wail above the fields -
Another soul gone down -
Another Sun about to rise.
I've lost track of my mistakes,
Like birds they fly around
And darken half of my skies.
To all of those I've hurt -
I pray you'll forgive me.
I to you will freely do the same.
So many things I didn't see,
With my eyes turned inside,
Playing the poet game.

I walk out at night to take a leak
Underneath the stars -
Oh yeah that's the life for me.
There's Orion and the Pleiades
And I guess that must be Mars -
All as clear as we long to be.
I've sung what I was given -
Some was bad and some was good.
I never did know from where it came
And if I had it all to do again
I am not sure I would
Play the poet game

Lyrics to Cheapest Kind :

We travelled Kansas and Missouri spreading the good news
A preachers family in our pressed clothes and worn out polished shoes
Momma fixed us soup beans and served them up by candlelight
She tucked us in at night
Oh she worried through many a sleepless night
Dad and me would stop by the store when the day was done
Standin at the counter he said "I forgot to get the peaches, son."
"What kind should I get?" I said to him there where he stood in line
And he answered just like I knew he would "Go and get the cheapest kind"

[Chorus:]
But the love, the love, the love
It was not the cheapest kind
It was rich as, rich as, rich as ,rich as, rich as
Any you could ever find

I see the ghost of my grandfather from time to time
In some big city amongst the people all dressed so fine
He usually has a paper bag clutched real tight
His work clothes are dirty
He don't look at nobody in the eye
Oh he was little, he was wirey, and he was lots of fun
He was rocky as Ozark dirt that he come from
And they was raisin seven children on a little farm
In not the best of times
The few things that they got from the store
Was always just the cheapest kind

[Chorus]

Fancy houses with wealthy poeple I don't understand
I always wish I could live holdin on to my grandpa's hand
So he could lead me down that gravel road somewhere
To that little house where there's just enough supper
For whosever there
My people's hands and faces they are so dear to me
All I have to do is close my eyes and I see `em all so near to me
I have to cry I have to laugh
When I think of all the things that have drawn those lines
So many years of makin do with the cheapest kind

[Chorus 2x]

Lyrics to Canned Goods :

Let those December winds bellow 'n' blow
I'm as warm as a July tomato.

[Chorus:]
Peaches on the shelf
Potatoes in the bin
Supper's ready, everybody come on in
Taste a little of the summer,
Taste a little of the summer,
You can taste a little of the summer
My grandma's put it all in jars.

Well, there's a root cellar, fruit cellar down below
Watch you head now, and down you go

And there's
[Chorus]

Maybe you're weary an' you don't give a damn
I bet you never tasted her blackberry jam.

[Chorus]

Ah, she's got magic in her - you know what I mean
She puts the sun and rain in with her green beans.

[Chorus]

What with the snow and the economy and ev'ry'thing,
I think I'll jus' stay down here and eat until spring.

[Chorus]

When I go to see my grandma I gain a lot of weight
With her dear hands she gives me plate after plate.
She cans the pickles, sweet & dill
She cans the songs of the whippoorwill
And the morning dew and the evening moon
'N' I really got to go see her pretty soon
'Cause these canned goods I buy at the store
Ain't got the summer in them anymore.

You bet, grandma, as sure as you're born
I'll take some more potatoes and a thunderstorm.

Peaches on the shelf
Potatoes in the bin
Supper's ready, everybody come on in, now
Taste a little of the summer,
Taste a little of the summer,
Taste a little of the summer,
My grandma put it all in jars.

Let those December winds bellow and blow,
I'm as warm as a July tomato.

Monday, July 09, 2018

*Legends Of The Country Blues- Bukka White

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Clip Of Bukka White doing "Poor Boy Long Way From Home". Wow.

DVD REVIEW

I have, as yet, not been able to find a copy of Bukka White's work. I am looking for something that has his classic (and fantastic) "Abedeen Missisippi Woman" on it. Until then I will place a previous review of White and fellow country blues musician Son House.

Kicking The Country Blues- Son House and Bukka White

Son House and Bukka White: Masters Of The Country Blues, hosted by Taj Mahal, Yazoo Videos, 1991

I have reviewed the music of country blues legend Son House elsewhere in this space (and above in this entry) and expected to review this documentary solely on the basis of a comment there. I mentioned there that in 1963 Son House, Skip James and Mississippi John Hurt performed at the Newport Folk Festival, a historic Delta blues occasion. One of the vivid cinematic scenes from that event was Son House flailing his National steel guitar, trance like, on the classic "Death Letter Blues". I assumed that I was going to see that performance here. That was not the case. However, with solid introductions to both performers by blues legend Taj Mahal we are treated to a little different look at Son House and a new look at Bukka White.

The Son House segments here concentrate on the lifelong tension between a career in preaching, Baptist style of course, and ‘doin’ the devil’s work’ of singing the blues (and along the way doing a little whiskey drinking, womanizing and hell-raising). House is interviewed here trying to lay out his philosophy, his theology and his acknowledgement that the whiskey and women mainly got the best of him. The actual musical presentation is rather short and religiously oriented- "Death Letter Blues", "John The Revelator" and the like. If you want Son House at his most musical you will have to look elsewhere, mainly to his CDs. If you want to know the man behind the music a little this is for you.

Enough of Son House here though. The real story of this documentary is that the lesser known (at least to me and others that I know who follow the blues) Bukka White steals the show in his segments. Not only is he a better and more versatile guitar player than Son House but he jumps with his musical compositions here. Let us leave it, for now, that if you want to get introduced to Brother White then this is a very good way to start. I might add that in a segment of The Howlin’ Wolf Story that I am also currently in the process of reviewing that White also steals the show from the legendary Wolf with his guitar playing. That said, the reader can expect that Brother White will shortly be getting an individual entry in this space. Yes, indeed, he will.

Bukka White - Aberdeen, Mississippi blues Lyrics
Album: Parchman Farm Blues


I was over in Aberdeen
On my way to New Orlean
I was over in Aberdeen
On my way to New Orlean
Them Aberdeen women told me
Will buy my gasoline

Hey, two little women
That I ain't ever seen
They has two little women
That I ain't never seen
These two little women
Just from New Orlean

Ooh, sittin' down in Aberdeen
With New Orlean on my mind
I'm sittin' down in Aberdeen
With New Orlean on my mind
Well, I believe them Aberdeen women
Gonna make me lose my mind, yeah

(slide guitar & washboard)

Aber-deen is my home
But the mens don't want me around
Aberdeen is my home
But the men don't want me around
They know I will take these women
An take them outta town

Listen, you Aberdeen women
You know I ain't got no dime
Oh-oh listen you women
You know'd I ain't got no dime
They been had the po' boy
All up and down.

(guitar & washboard to end)

Sunday, July 08, 2018

When The Juke Joints Rocked And Nobody Cared About The Electricity-Delta Blues- And Then Some

When The Juke Joints Rocked And Nobody Cared About The Electricity-Delta Blues- And Then Some


Click On Title To Link To Rounder Records Web Page.

CD Review

Southern Journey, Highway 61, Mississippi Fred McDowell and various artists, Rounder Records, 1997

I have spent a fair amount of time recently reviewing, individually and on various artist compilations, performers from the 1960’s urban folk revival. You know, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Dave Van Ronk, Eric Von Schmidt and the like. I have also reviewed the earlier performers who influenced them on the more traditional folk side like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger. There was another component of that search for roots that entailed heading south to the Mississippi Delta (or the hills of North Carolina) and getting ‘religion’ on the black country blues scene.

I mentioned in a review of the performers who influenced the 1960’s urban folk scene that it did not fall from the sky but had been transmitted by earlier performers. That, my friends, applies as well to the search for the blues. I also mentioned that we all, later when we understood things better, appreciated that John and Allan Lomax did yeomen’s service to roots music by their travels into the hinterlands in the 1930’s and 1940’s (and had Pete Seeger tag along for a year and thus serve as a little transmission belt to the latter generation) to find blues, mountain and other types of American traditional music. However, most of us got our country blues infusion second-hand through our addiction to local coffeehouses and the performers who provided us entertainment. They, in turn, learned their material from the masters who populate this CD.

This CD compilation is filled with the legends of the genre like the renowned Mississippi Fred McDowell (a major influence on and mentor of Bonnie Raitt). Moreover it contains fife and drum music from North Mississippi, which can be traced back to the African roots, and work songs that do not get nearly enough attention (including by this reviewer) as the work of the Delta artists like McDowell, Son House, John Hurt and Bukka White. Nicely done.

Devil Got My Woman lyrics

You know, I'd rather be the ol' devil
Well, I'd rather be the devil
Then to be that woman' man
You know, rather be the devil
Than to be that woman' man

You know, I'm so sorry
You know, so sorry
That I ever fell in love wit' you-ooo-hoo-oo
Because you know you don't treat me
Baby, like you used ta do-hoo

You know, I laid down last night
You know, I laid down last night
And I thought to take me some rest
But my mind got to rambling
Like a wild geese from the west

You know the woman that I love
The woman that I love
I stol't her from my best friend
But you know he done got lucky
An he done got her back, again

You know, I used to cut your kindleing
You know, I used to cut your kindleing
Baby, then I made you some fire
Then I would tote all your water
Way, way, way, from the bogy brier

You know, my baby she don't drink whiskey
My baby, she don't drink no whiskey
An I know she ain't crazy about wine
Now, it was nothin' but the ol' devil
He done changed my baby's mind

You know, I could be right
You know, I could be right
Then again, I could be wrong
But it was nothin' but the ol' devil
He done got my baby
Now he done gone.

I'm So Glad lyrics

Eee, an I'm so glad
Yes sir, I'm glad
Until I just don't know
What to do

An I am tired a-weeping
I'm so tired a-moanin'
I'm so tired of groanin' for you

(guitar)

Eee, an I am so -
Yes, I am mighty glad
Until I just don't know what -

Would you be my little darlin'?
Would you be my dear?
Would you be my darlin'
Be my dear?

Then I would be mighty -
I would be mighty glad
Then I just wouldn't know
What to do

When I say, 'Coo-coo-coo'
Just like a little baby, do
I would love to have
A lovely kiss from you

Then I would be mighty -
Then I would be so -
Until I just wouldn't know -

You know, I'm tired a-weeping
I'm so tired of a-moanin'
I'm so tired of groanin' for you

(guitar)

Eee, an I am so glad
Yes, I'm so glad
Until I just don't know
What to do-ooo-woo-ooo-ooo.

Cherry Ball Blues lyrics

I love my little cherry ball
Better than I love myself
I love my cherry ball
Better than I love myself
Then if she don't love me
She can't love nobody else

Cherry ball, she quit me
Quit me in a nice, good way
Cherry ball, she quit me
Quit me in a nice, good way
You know, what it take to get her back
I carries it ev'ryday

Now, I left cherry ball standin'
Standin' in the back do' cryin'
Now, I left cherry ball
Standin' in the back do' cryin'
Of course, I feel her condition
But her trouble ain't none a-mine

She's just like a spider
She's hangin' on the wall
She's like a spider
She's hangin' on the wall
You know, she done quit me
She quit me without a cause

Now, when she left me
She left tears in my eye
Now, when she left me
She left tears in my eye
You know, that I love her
But her disposition I do dispise

Now, you can take the Southern
I'm 'on take the Sante Fe
Now, you take the Southern
I'm 'on take the Sante Fe
I'm gon' ride an gon' ramble
'Till cherry ball come back to me

She got to come on back home to me-ee-ee.

Son House - Death Letter lyrics

Lyrics to Death Letter :


I got a letter this mornin, how do you reckon it read?
It said, "Hurry, hurry, yeah, your love is dead"
I got a letter this mornin, I say how do you reckon it read?
You know, it said, "Hurry, hurry, how come the gal you love is dead?"

So, I grabbed up my suitcase, and took off down the road
When I got there she was layin on a coolin' board
I grabbed up my suitcase, and I said and I took off down the road
I said, but when I got there she was already layin on a coolin' board

Well, I walked up right close, looked down in her face
Said, the good ol' gal got to lay here 'til the Judgment Day
I walked up right close, and I said I looked down in her face
I said the good ol' gal, she got to lay here 'til the Judgment Day

Looked like there was 10,000 people standin' round the buryin' ground
I didn't know I loved her 'til they laid her down
Looked like 10,000 were standin' round the buryin' ground
You know I didn't know I loved her 'til they damn laid her down

Lord, have mercy on my wicked soul
I wouldn't mistreat you baby, for my weight in gold
I said, Lord, have mercy on my wicked soul
You know I wouldn't mistreat nobody, baby, not for my weight in gold

Well, I folded up my arms and I slowly walked away
I said, "Farewell honey, I'll see you on Judgment Day"
Ah, yeah, oh, yes, I slowly walked away
I said, "Farewell, farewell, I'll see you on the Judgment Day"

You know I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
The blues came along and drove my spirit away
I went in my room, I said I bowed down to pray
I said the blues came along and drove my spirit away

You know I didn't feel so bad, 'til the good ol' sun went down
I didn't have a soul to throw my arms around
I didn't feel so bad, 'til the good ol' sun went down
You know, I didn't have nobody to throw my arms around

I loved you baby, like I love myself
You don't have me, you won't have nobody else
I loved you baby, better than I did myself
I said now if you don't have me, I didn't want you to have nobody else

You know, it's hard to love someone that don't love you
Ain't no satisfaction, don't care what in the world you do
Yeah, it's hard to love someone that don't love you
You know it don't look like satisfaction, don't care what in the world you do

Got up this mornin', just about the break of day
A-huggin' the pillow where she used to lay
Got up this mornin', just about the break of day
A-huggin' the pillow where my good gal used to lay

Got up this mornin', feelin' round for my shoes
You know, I must-a had them old walkin' blues
Got up this mornin', feelin' round for my shoes
Yeah, you know bout that, I must-a had them old walkin' blues

You know, I cried last night and all the night before
Gotta change my way a livin', so I don't have to cry no more
You know, I cried last night and all the night before
Gotta change my way a livin', you see, so I don't have to cry no more

Ah, hush, thought I heard her call my name
If it wasn't so loud and so nice and plain
Ah, yeah
Mmmmmm

Well, listen, whatever you do
This is one thing, honey, I tried to get along with you
Yes, no tellin' what you do
I done everything I could, just to try and get along with you

Well, the minutes seemed like hours, hours they seemed like days
It seemed like my good, old gal outta done stopped her low-down ways
Minutes seemed like hours, hours they seemed like days
Seems like my good, old gal outta done stopped her low-down ways

You know, love's a hard ol' fall, make you do things you don't wanna do
Love sometimes leaves you feeling sad and blue
You know, love's a hard ol' fall, make you do things you don't wanna do
Love sometimes make you feel sad and blue

Son House - Preachin' Blues lyrics
Lyrics to Preachin' Blues :


Oh, I'm gonna get me a religion, I'm gonna join the Baptist Church
Oh, I'm gonna get me a religion, I'm gonna join the Baptist Church
I'm gonna be a Baptist preacher, and I sure won't have to work

Oh, I'm a-preach these blues, and I, I want everybody to shout
I want everybody to shout
I'm gonna do like a prisoner, I'm gonna roll my time on out

Oh, I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
Oh, I went in my room, I bowed down to pray
Till the blues come along, and they blowed my spirit1 away

Oh, I'd-a had religion, Lord, this every day
Oh, I'd-a had religion, Lord, this every day
But the womens and whiskey, well, they would not set me free

Oh, I wish I had me a heaven of my own
Hey, a heaven of my own
Till I'd give all my women a long, long, happy home

hey, I love my baby, just like I love myself
Oh, just like I love myself
Well, if she don't have me, she won't have nobody else

Son House - Pony Blues lyrics
Lyrics to Pony Blues :


Why don't you catch my pony, now saddle up my black mare?
...my pony, saddle up, up my black mare?
You know, I'm gonna find my baby, well, in the world somewhere

You know, he's a travelin' horse, an' he's too black bad
He's a travelin' pony, I declare, he's too black bad
You know, he got a gait, now, no Shetlan' ain't never had

You know, I taken him by the rein an' I led him around and 'round
I say, I taken him by the reins an' I, I led him, him 'round and 'round
You know, he ain't the best in the world, but he's the best ever been in this town

You know, he's a travelin' horse and he don't deny his name
He's a travelin' pony and he don't deny his name
You know, the way he can travel is a low-down, old, dirty shame

Why don't you come up here, pony, now come on, please let's us go
I said, "Come up, get up now, please pony, now let's us go"
Let's we saddle on down on the Gulf of, of Mexico

You know, the horse that I'm ridin', he can fox-trot, he can lope and pace
I say, the pony I'm ridin', he can fox-trot, he can lope and pace
You know, a horse with them many gaits, you know, I'm bound to win the race

He's a travelin' horse an' he don't deny his name
He's a travelin' pony, he don't deny his name
the way he can travel is a low-down, old, dirty shame


Aberdeen Mississippi 2:33 Trk 9

Bukka White (Booker T. Washington White)
Bukka White - vocal & guitar
& Washboard Sam (Robert Brown) - wshbrd.
Recorded: March 7th & 8th 1940 Chicago, Illinois
Album: Parchman Farm Blues, Roots RTS 33055
Transcriber: Awcantor@aol.com



I was over in Aberdeen
On my way to New Orlean
I was over in Aberdeen
On my way to New Orlean
Them Aberdeen women told me
Will buy my gasoline

Hey, two little women
That I ain't ever seen
They has two little women
That I ain't never seen
These two little women
Just from New Orlean

Ooh, sittin' down in Aberdeen
With New Orlean on my mind
I'm sittin' down in Aberdeen
With New Orlean on my mind
Well, I believe them Aberdeen women
Gonna make me lose my mind, yeah

(slide guitar & washboard)

Aber-deen is my home
But the mens don't want me around
Aberdeen is my home
But the men don't want me around
They know I will take these women
An take them outta town

Listen, you Aberdeen women
You know I ain't got no dime
Oh-oh listen you women
You know'd I ain't got no dime
They been had the po' boy
All up and down.

(guitar & washboard to end)


Fixin' To Die Blues lyrics

I'm lookin' funny in my eyes
And I believe I'm fixin' to die
Believe I'm fixin' to die
I'm lookin' funny in my eyes
Now, I believe I'm fixin' to die, yeah
I know I was born to die
But I hate to leave my children around cryin'
Yeah

Just as sho' we live
It's a, sho' we's born to die
Sho' we's born to die
Just as sho's we live
Sho' we's born to die
Yeah
I know I was born to die
But I hate to leave my children around cryin'
Yeah

Yo mother treated me, children
Like I was her baby child
Was her baby child
Yo mother treated me
Like I was her baby child
That's why's I sighed
Sighed so hard
And come back home to die
Yeah

So many nights at the fireside
How my chillen's mother would cry
How my chillen's mother would cry
So many nights at the fireside
How my chillen's mother would cry
Yeah
'Cause I told the mother I had to say, goodbye

Look over yon-der
On the buryin' ground
On the buryin' ground
Look over yonder, on the burying ground
Yon' stand ten thousand
Standin' still to let me down
Yeah

(washboard & guitar)

Mother, take my chillen back
Before they let me down
Before they let me down
Mother, take my chillen back
'Fore they let me down
Ain't no need a-them screamin' an cryin'
On the graveyard ground.

(washboard & guitar to end)


Shake 'em On Down lyrics

Yes, you're a nice girl, mama
And little girl
Night before day
We gonna
Shake 'em on down

I need some time holler, now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down

Too much is debted to me
Through the week
Save these chili peppers
Some ol' rainy day, here

Best I'm hollerin', now
Ooh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down, now

Fix my supper
Let me go to bed
This white lightnin' done gone
To my head

Oh, must I holler now
Ooh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', now
Must I shake 'em on down

I ain't been in Georgia, babe
I been told
Georgia women got the best
Jellyroll

These nights time holler, now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', mama
Must I shake 'em on down

See See mama, heard
You, done-done
Made me love you, now I know
Man done coming

Best I'm hollerin', now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin', mama
Must I shake 'em on down

Pretty girl's got
They don't know
What it is
Make me drunk at that old
Whiskey still

It's best I'm hollerin', now
Oh, must I shake 'em on down
I done shout hollerin'
Must I shake 'em on down.

Poor Boy Long Way From Home by Bukka White Lyrics

Poor boy a long way from home
Poor boy I'm a long way from home
Poor boy I'm a long way from home
I don't have no happy home to go home to

When I left my home my baby's in my arms
When I left my home my baby's in my arms
When I left my home my baby's in my arms
She wanna know, 'Daddy, when you comin' back home?'

(guitar)

They got me down here on the farm
Got me down here on old farm
I don't have no one to come and go my bail
Baby, I wanna come back home to you

(guitar)

Sorry, baby I can't call you over the phone
Sorry, I can't call you over the phone
'Cause they got me down here long distance phone
But I can't call you baby over the phone.

(guitar to end)