Happy Birthday To You-Back In Good Ole Boy (And Girl) Television Days- “The Ozark Jubilee”

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.    

 

A YouTube's film clip of Sonny James performing his 1957 classic "Young Love". Who said technology isn't great.

DVD Review

Hillbillies On TV: The Ozark Jubilee, various artists including host Red Foley, Brenda Lee and “Young Love” by Sonny James, Stamper Records, 1957

Okay, okay laugh at me. What is a certified urban-dwelling boy who gets nervous when he cannot see the bright lights of the city nearby , or the road is not macadam, doing reviewing some Podunk black and white television show featuring Red Foley, Brenda Lee and Rex Allen? That bill of fare is not exacting The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, The Doors and a host of other musicians that I have reviewed in this space.

Well let me say this first for all you “effete” snobs. Many years ago I used to listen to a radio program on Saturday mornings called “Hillbilly At Harvard”. That program featured many of the artists like Norman Blake, June Carter, Townes Van Zandt and a host of iconic figures in mountain music, outlaw country music, folk and other genres that are “hip” today. So to paraphrase an old cliché what is good enough for Harvard is good enough for this reviewer. Got it?

Seriously, though, I picked up this DVD as part of the continuing string of reviews that I have been doing highlighting the mountain music traditions that are part of my heritage that I had previously scorned. However, like many things, not all “mountain” music and musicians are created equal. That, sadly, is the case here as the performances and chitchat of this country variety show format, for the most part, set my teeth on edge. There are two exceptions, one is the performance of a rapid fire traditional banjo player whose name I do not remember and the other is hearing Sonny James doing his 1950s teen hit classic, “Young Love”. Should you get this thing? NO, except the old time commercials for Beechnut gum and Clorets for you breathe seemed really quaint against today’ s high-powered subliminally sex and power -driven attempts to interest you in some product. When I am mentioning the virtues of the commercials I think that tells the tale on this one.

Note: I usually, particularly for the old black and white productions whose graininess and almost amateur production values by today’s standards are part of the visual charm for me, do not comment on the technical quality of a film. However, on this one the lack of quality definitely interfered with the flow of the work.



"Young Love"-Sonny James

They say for every boy and girl there's just one love in this old world
And I know I've found mine
The heavenly touch of your embrace tells me no one can take your place
Ever in my heart
Young love first love filled with true devotion
Young love our love we share with deep emotion

[ guitar ]

Just one kiss from your sweet lips will tell me that your love is real
And I can feel that it's true
We will vow to one another there will never be another
Love for you or for me
Young love first love...

* Poor Man’s Heaven- Once Again No Relief In Sight

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Vernon Dalhart performing his "The Farm Song" from "Poor Man’s Heaven", various artists, When The Sun Goes Down, RCA Victor, 1995.

* Once More, My Arkie Angel-The Music Of Iris Dement-"The Way I Should"

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Iris DeMent performing "Sweet Is The Melody".

CD Review

The Way I Should, Iris Dement, Warner Brothers Records, 1996

I first heard Iris DeMent doing a cover of a Greg Brown tribute to Jimmy Rodgers, the old time Texas yodeller, on Brown's tribute album, "Driftless". I then looked for this album and for the most part was blown away by the power of DeMent's voice, her piano accompaniment and her lyrics (which are contained in the liner notes, read them, please). It is hard to type her style. Is it folk? Is it Country Pop? Is it semi-torch songstress? Well, whatever it may be you are in for a listening treat, especially if you are in a sentimental mood.

Stand outs here include- "There is a Wall in Washington" about the Vietnam Memorial probably one of the best anti-war songs you will ever hear. It is fairly easy to write a "Give Peace a Chance" or "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" type of anti-war song. It is another to capture the pathos of what happened to too many families when we were unable to stop that war. "When My Morning Comes" hits home with all the baggage working class kids have about their inferiority when they screw up in this world. Lastly- "Walking Home Alone" evokes all the humor, bathos, pathos and sheer exhilaration of saying one was able to survive, and not badly, after growing up poor amid the riches of America. Listen on. Yo will be glad you did.


“Walkin' Home”

I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I'm walkin' home
Once again I hear my mother's voice
and all us kids making a bunch of noise
If I'm not careful I might start to cry
Just walkin' home tonight

I turn my head and hear the screen door slam
and there he is, that tall and dark-haired man
He looks my way but all alone he stands
and I am walkin' home
He's my Dad, you know I was his girl
He taught me all he knew about this world
and then he traveled right on out of sight
and I'm just walkin' home tonight

I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I am walkin' home

Old worn-out couches and a bunch of kids
Four to a bedroom and all Mom's plates were chipped
but I never knew about the things I missed
and I'm walkin' home
You see, it's just the place where I come from
and, good or bad, it's where the deal was done
Mom and Dad, their daughters and their sons
and I'm just walkin' home tonight

I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I'm walkin' home
Once again I hear my mother's voice
and all us kids making a bunch of noise
If I'm not careful I might start to cry
Just walkin' home tonight


No Time To Cry lyrics Y

My father died a year ago today.
The rooster started crowing when they carried Dad away.
There beside my mother, in the living room, I stood,
With my brothers and my sisters, knowing Dad was gone for good.

Well, I stayed at home just long enough,
To lay him in the ground and then I,
Caught a plane to do a show up north in Detroit town.
Because I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.

I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.

I can still remember when I was a girl.
But so many things have changed so much here in my world.
I remember sitting on the front yard when an ambulance went by,
And just listening to those sirens I would breakdown and cry.

But now I'm walking and I'm talking,
Doing just what I'm supposed to do.
Working overtime to make sure that I don't come unglued.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.

I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.

Now I sit down on the sofa and I watch the evening news:
There's a half a dozen tragedies from which to pick and choose.
The baby that was missing was found in a ditch today.
And there's bombs a'flying and people dying not so far away.

And I'll take a beer from the 'fridgerator,
And go sit out in the yard and with a cold one in my hand,
I'm gonna bite down and swallow hard.
Because I'm older now: I've got no time to cry.

I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.

I guess I'm older now: I just ain't got no time to cry.

No time to cry.

No time to cry.

No time to cry.

*My Arkie Angel- The Music Of Iris DeMent-"Infamous Angel"

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Iris DeMent performing "Our Town"

CD REVIEW

Infamous Angel, Iris Dement, Rounder Records, 1992

Frankly, and I admit this publicly for the first time in this space, I love Ms. Iris Dement. Not personally, of course, but through her voice, her lyrics and her musical presence. This ‘confession’ may seem rather startling coming from a reviewer who is as likely here to go on and on about Bolsheviks, ‘Che’, Leon Trotsky, high communist theory and the like. Especially, as well given Ms. Dement’s seemingly simple quasi- religious themes and commitment to paying homage to her rural background in song. All such discrepancies though go out the window here. Why?

Well, for one, this old radical got a lump in his throat the first time he heard “These Hills”. Okay, that happens sometimes-once- but why did he have the same reaction on the fifth and twelfth hearings? Explain that. I can easily enough. If, on the very, very remotest chance, there is a heaven then I know one of the choir members. Enough said. By the way give a listen to “Sweet Forgiveness” and “After You’ve Gone” (with that great line about 'knowing' every line in her man's face. Then you too will be in love with Ms. Iris Dement. Iris, here is my proposal. If you get tired of fishing the U.P., or wherever, with Mr. Greg Brown, get bored with his endless twaddle about old Iowa farms or going on and on about Grannma's cellar just whistle. Better yet just yodel like you did on “Jimmie Rodgers Going Home” on that “Driftless” CD.

INFAMOUS ANGEL (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

Last night before I went to sleep my knees dropped to the floor
I turned me eyes up to the sky and I prayed "Please help me, Lord,
you know I've sowed my wild oats and now the fun's all gone"
and then I heard these tender words
and I put them in my song:

"Infamous Angel come on home
to someone who loves you and knows you needed to roam
Grab your things, a ticket's waiting at the bus depot
for: Infamous Angel, Destination: Home"

I heard heaven's choir rejoicing as the tears broke from my eyes
and all at once it lifted the weight from my past life
I found a pen and I left a note on the dresser drawer
"Infamous Angel, she don't live here anymore"

Infamous Angel come on home
to someone who loves you and knows you needed to roam
Grab your things, a ticket's waiting at the bus depot
for: Infamous Angel, Destination: Home

Then I hurried out the back door as quickly as I could
I went flying down two flights of stairs 'til on the street I stood
and there I took that final look at my old neighbourhood
Then I ran down the street proclaiming "Angel gone for good"

Infamous Angel going home
to someone who loves her and knows she needed to roam
She grabbed her things and claimed the ticket at the bus depot
for: Infamous Angel, Destination: Home
Infamous Angel, Destination: Home



SWEET FORGIVENESS (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

Sweet forgiveness, that's what you give to me
when you hold me close and you say "That's all over"
You don't go looking back,
you don't hold the cards to stack,
you mean what you say.

Sweet forgiveness, you help me see
I'm not near as bad as I sometimes appear to be
When you hold me close and say
"That's all over, and I still love you"

There's no way that I could make up for those angry words I said
Sometimes it gets to hurting and the pain goes to my head

Sweet forgiveness, dear God above
I say we all deserve a taste of this kind of love
Someone who'll hold our hand,
and whisper "I understand, and I still love you"



AFTER YOU'RE GONE (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

There'll be laughter even after you're gone
I'll find reasons to face that empty dawn
'cause I've memorized each line in your face
and not even death can ever erase the story they tell to me

I'll miss you, oh how I'll miss you
I'll dream of you and I'll cry a million tears
but the sorrow will pass and the one thing that will last
is the love that you've given to me

There'll be laughter even after you're gone
I'll find reason and I'll face that empty dawn
'cause I've memorized each line in your face
and not even death could ever erase the story they tell to me



MAMA'S OPRY (Iris DeMent)
[note: harmony vocals provided by Emmylou Harris]
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

She grew up plain and simple in a farming town
Her daddy played the fiddle and use to do the calling
when they had hoedowns
She said the neighbors would come
and they'd move all my grandma's furniture 'round
and there'd be twenty or more there on the old wooden floor
dancing to a country sound

The Carters and Jimmy Rodgers played her favourite songs
and on Saturday nights there was a radio show
and she would sing along
and I'll never forget her face when she revealed to me
that she'd dreamed about singing at The Grand Ol' Opry

Her eyes, oh how they sparkled when she sang those songs
While she was hanging the clothes on the line
I was a kid just a humming along
Well, I'd be playing in the grass,
to her what might've seemed obliviously
but there ain't no doubt about it, she sure made her mark on me

She played old gospel records on the phonograph
She turned them up loud and we'd sing along
but those days have passed
Just now that I am older it occurs to me
that I was singing in the grandest opry

And we sang Sweet Rose of Sharon, Abide With Me
'til I ride The Gospel Ship to Heaven's Jubilee
and In That Great Triumphant Morning my soul will be free
and My Burdens Will Be Lifted when my Saviour's face I see
So I Don't Want to Get Adjusted to This World below
but I know He'll Pilot Me 'til it comes time to go
Oh, nothing on this earth is half as dear to me
as the sound of my Mama's Opry

And we sang Sweet Rose of Sharon, Abide With Me
'til I ride The Gospel Ship to Heaven's Jubilee
and In That Great Triumphant Morning my soul will be free
and My Burdens Will Be Lifted when my Saviour's face I see
So I Don't Want to Get Adjusted to This World below
but I know He'll Pilot Me 'til it comes time to go
Oh, nothing on this earth is half as dear to me
as the sound of my Mama's Opry



HIGHER GROUND (Iris DeMent)
[note: lead vocal by Flora Mae DeMent, backing vocals by "The Infamous Angel Choir" (Iris, etc.)]
Traditional, public domain

[Spoken intro by Iris: "No voice has inspired me more than my mother's. She showed me that music is a pathway to higher ground".]

I'm pressing on the upward way
New heights I'm gaining every day
Still praying as I'm onward bound
Lord, plant my feet on higher ground

Lord, lift me up and let me stand
by faith on Heaven's table land
A higher plain than I have found
Lord, plant me feet on higher ground

My heart has no desire to stay
where doubts arise and fears dismay
Though some may dwell where these abound
my prayer, my aim, is higher ground

Lord, lift me up and let me stand
by faith on Heaven's table land
A higher plain than I have found
Lord, plant me feet on higher ground

I want to scale the utmost heights
and catch a gleam of glory bright
but still I'll pray 'til heaven I've found
Lord, lead me on to higher ground

Lord, lift me up and let me stand
by faith on Heaven's table land
A higher plain than I have found
Lord, plant me feet on higher ground

Lord, lift me up and let me stand
by faith on Heaven's table land
A higher plain than I have found
Lord, plant me feet on higher ground

Another Walk On The Wild Side with Nelson Algren

BOOK REVIEW

A Walk on the Wild Side, Nelson Algren, The Noonday Press, 1984

As I have mentioned in other reviews of Nelson Algren's work, such as The Man With The Golden Arm and The Neon Wilderness, I am personally very familiar with the social milieu that he is working. Growing up in a post-World War II built housing project this reviewer knew first hand the so-called `romance' of drugs, the gun, the ne'er do well hustler and the fallen sister. And I also learned the complex mechanisms one needed to develop in order to survive at that place where the urban working poor meet and mix with the lumpen proletariat- the con men, dopesters, grifters, drifters and gamblers who feed on the downtrodden. This is definitely not the mix that Damon Runyon celebrated in his Guys and Dolls-type stories. Far from it.

Nelson Algren has once again, through hanging around Chicago police stations (does anyone describe that milieu, cops and criminals, better?), other nefarious locales and the sheer ability to observe, gotten that sense of foreboding, despair and the just plain oblivion of America's mean streets down pat. In this, probably his best literary endeavor in that vein, Algren has gotten down to the core of existence for the would be world-beater hustler Dove Linkhorn a character who symbolizes a certain aspect of American life in his way, as say, Fitzgerald's Jay Gatsby or Hemingway's Robert Jordan do in theirs.

Several factors make this an exceptional work. Not the least is the beginning section’s description of the antecedents of the "white trash" phenomena, as exemplified by Dove, that as always been something of a hidden secret about the American experience. In short, what happens when the land runs out, or in Professor Frederick Jackson Turner's thesis-the frontier ends. Nobody has put this in literature better than Algren, even Steinbeck. Furthermore, he has moved the story line here back in time from his usual 1940's and 1950's to the 1930's when some cosmic shifts were occurring in American life.

Algren has also moved the geography from Chicago to New Orleans and integrated some of his short story characters and story lines found in his collection Neon Wilderness into this project. Changes in time, place and characters there may be but that raw struggle for survival for those down almost below the base of society is still the same. The only objection that I have is that the portrait of Linkhorn, as described here by Algren, gives me an impression that old Dove could never ever make it in his `chosen' world unlike, say, Frankie Machine who has that urban grit almost genetically build into him in order to survive. Frankly, I do not believe that Dove could have survived in my old housing project. Frankie Machine would have been the `king of the hill'. Read this valuable book about an America that, then and now, is hidden in the shadows.

The Grapes of Wrath-John Steinbeck Unchained

BOOK REVIEW

The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck, Random House, New York, 1998

Oddly, I first read John Steinbeck's classic tale of the 1930's depression, Grapes of Wrath, as a result of listening to Woody Guthrie's also classic Dustbowl Ballads. In that album Woody sings/narrates the trials and tribulations of the Joad family as they got the hell out of drought-stricken Oklahoma and headed for the land of milk and honey in California. After listening to that rendition I wanted to get the full story and Steinbeck did not fail me. His tightly-woven story stands as a very strong exposition of the plight of rural Americans as they tried to make sense of a vengeful God, unrelenting Nature and the down-side of the American dream. For those who have seem Walker Evans's and other photographers pictures of the Okies, Arkies, etc. of the period this is the story behind those forlorn, if stoic, faces.

The story line is actually very simple. The land in Oklahoma was played out, the banks nevertheless were pressing for payment or threatening foreclosure and for the Joads, as for others, time had run out. In the classic American tradition they pulled up stakes and headed west to get a new start. With great hopes and no few illusions they set out as a family for the sunny and plentiful California of their dreams. Their struggle along the way is a modern day version of the struggles of the old Westward heading wagon trains-including the causalities. But, that is not the least of it.

Apparently they had not read Frederick Jackson Turner's thesis that the frontier was gone- the land was taken. The bulk of the story centers of what happened when they get to the golden land-and it is not pretty. Day labor, work camps, strike action, murder, and mayhem-you know, California, the real California of the day. Not the Chamber of Commerce version. In short, as Woody sang, no hope if you ain't got the do re mi.

Grapes of Wrath was made into a starkly beautiful film starring a young Henry Fonda as Tom Joad. On a day when you are not depressed it is a film you want to see, if only for its photographic quality. So here is the list. Listen to Woody sing the tale. Watch Henry Fonda as he acts it out. And by all means read Steinbeck. He had an ear for the 1930's struggle of the Okies and their ilk as they hit California. What happened to those people later and their influence on California culture and what happened to those who didn't make it are chronicled by others like Howard Fast, Hunter Thompson and Nelson Algren. But for this period your man is Steinbeck.