The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- *An Encore Presentation-Douglas Brinkley's Radio Interview On His Bob Dylan "Rolling Stone" Magazine Interview

Click On Title To Link To Tom Ashbrook's "On Point" Interview With Professor Douglas Brinkley (Known Previously In This Space For His Friendship With The Late "Gonzo" Journalist Doctor Hunter S. Thompson) About His 2009 Bob Dylan "Rolling Stone" Magazine Interview.

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- ***The Fire Next Time-Folk Variety-Alastair Moock-Starting Out

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Alastair Moock Doing "God Saw Fit To Make Tears".

CD Review

Walking Sounds, Alastair Moock, Bad Moock Rising Records, 1997

Here is an early Moock CD.

So what is good here? For you topical folk types with a little sense of humor how about “Me And My Friend” (with a very nice sense of the use of language getting a strong workout here). “Dance in the Night” and “Walking To The End Of The World ” deserve a listen but if you have only time to listen to one give a listen to “ What If Love Came Too Soon” then you will know why the old folk tradition like the blues is still in capable hands. This is an early CD (maybe his first?) and reflects a little unsureness about where he was at and a little showing off of the literary end of his work. That’s okay. We know from later experience that he has the goods.

The Centennial Of Pete Seeger’s Birthday (1919-2014)- ***The Fire Next Time-Folk Variety-Alastair Moock

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Woody Guthrie Doing "Pastures Of Plenty". I Am Sure Alastair Won't Mind My Using This As A Substitute Since I Could Not Find Him Doing The Song On YouTube.

CD REVIEWS

Bad Moock Rising, Alastair Moock, Bad Moock Rising Records, 1999

Recently I posed a question in this space about who would continue the blues tradition today, now that most, if not all, of the famous old blues singers are dead or retired. One answer that I came up with was the talented Keb’ Mo’. There are others I am sure. I would like to pose that same question here in regard to the folk music movement that now is seeing more than its fair share of old time performers pass from the scene, most recently the likes of Odetta and Utah Phillips. This reviewer has spent much ink in this space over the past year or so touting various old time folk singers like Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Dave Van Ronk, Rosalie Sorrels and so on. That tip of the hat to the folk revival of the early 1960’s begged an important question. Who would, if anyone, continue that old folk tradition?

That is where the artist under review, Alastair Moock, comes into the picture. He has gone back to the roots with some songs of his own creation that would do his predecessors proud. Moreover, I note that I first heard Mr. Moock in person while attending a concept concert that he put together doing material in honor of Woody Guthrie. The name of the project, “Pastures Of Plenty”, which just happens to be the name of a famous Woody song. Moreover, the very first song that I heard the Moock do (on the local folk radio) was a cover of Bob Dylan’s “Let Me Die In My Footsteps”. Yes here is a man who is serious about roots, and serious about making his own contributions to that scene. Hell, a few years ago I recall that he had a following of 'groupies' that called itself the Moockettes. Sounds about right to me.

So what is good here? Obviously that above-mentioned Dylan cover. For you topical folk types with a little sense of humor how about “Here’s A Latte and My Middle Finger”. “Your Good (For Man Like Me)” and “Take Me When You Go” deserve a listen but if you have only time to listen to one give a listen to the old Woody Guthrie tune (complete with Alastair comments) on “ Pretty Boy Floyd” then you will know why the old folk tradition like the blues is still in capable hands. Kudos, Moockster.

"This Land Is Your Land"-Woody Guthrie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hard Travelin'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Oklahoma Hills

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

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

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

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



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

Pastures Of Plenty

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty Boy Floyd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Average Folk- The Second Tier Of The Folk Revival Of The 1960's

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Arlo Guthrie Doing "Buffalo Skinners"



CD REVIEW



Here is a late addition to the course, from Folk 101



Folk Classics: Roots Of American Folk Music, various artists, CBS Records, 1989



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, the Georgia Sea Islands, the hills and hollows of Southern Appalachia, the prairies of Texas, the plains and the Mountain West to get ‘religion’ on the rural roots musical scene.

This compilation reflects the results of that search with a selection maybe not of the best versions, best done or best representative of the genres but a good sampler nevertheless. Stick outs here include Lead Belly’s "Alberta" (although his has done that song under other female names); Pete Seeger’s "Jesse James" (although it is long past time to correct the historical record concerning this craven outlaw who, moreover, for this Northern unionist and abolitionist was on the wrong side in the American Civil War); Ramblin’ Jack Elliot’s “Buffalo Skinners”; Carolyn Hester’s “Swing and Turn Jubilee” (what a voice she projected when she was on); and, an interesting combination of Johnny Cash and the Carter Family on “The Banks Of The Ohio”. Not filled with a lot of my folk favorites but very good as a cross-section of what the 1960’s folk revival was all about.

Ramblin' Boy- Tom Paxton And Friends

CD REVIEW

Best Of Friends, Tom Paxton, Anne Hill, Bob Gibson, Appleseed Records, 2004

The following paragraphs are from a review of Tom Paxton’s Greatest Hits CD that I reviewed in this space last year and that is germane to a review of this album- at least to Tom Paxton’s role in it.

“If I were to ask someone, in the year 2008, to name a male folk singer from the 1960’s I would assume that if I were to get an answer to that question that the name would be Bob Dylan. And that would be a good and appropriate choice. One can endlessly dispute whether or not Dylan was (or wanted to be) the voice of the Generation of ’68 but in terms of longevity and productivity he fits the bill as a known quality. However, there were a slew of other male folk singers who tried to find their niche in the folk milieu and who, like Dylan, today continue to produce work and to perform. The artist under review Tom Paxton is one such singer/songwriter.

The following is a question that I have been posing in reviewing the work of a number of male folk singers from the 1960’s and it is certainly an appropriate question to ask of Tom Paxton as well. I do not know if Tom Paxton, like his contemporary Bob Dylan, started out wanting to be the king of the hill among male folk singers but he certainly had some things going for him. A decent acoustic guitar but a very interesting (and strong) voice to fit the lyrics of love, hope, longing and sometimes just sheer whimsy, as in the children’s songs, that he was singing about at the time. I would venture however, given what I know of his politics and the probably influence that his good friend the late folksinger and historian Dave Van Ronk had on him, that the answer above is probably no.”

Well, those points made above apply to him here as well. Except that instead of just posing the question to Tom Paxton it is also a question that one can ask of the late Bob Gibson who, arguably, was as influential as anyone in the early 1960’s folk revival. I will, when I can find some of his material, do a separate review on his work. Added here as well is the very fine voice of Anne Hall whom I was very unfamiliar with prior to listening to this CD. I will also make up for that lack at a later time. For now though, this is a very fine CD based on collective work that this trio did for a short time on the Chicago folk circuit in the mid-1980s. Most of the material was written by Paxton, including works containing his funny political slant, but the real treat is the almost seamless harmony done on the songs.

Outstanding here are “The Death Of Stephen Biko (a black activist murdered while in custody in South Africa in the 1970’s); “And Loving You”; “She Sits On The Table” (a gripping and compelling tale of domestic abuse and the sometimes no way out dead end that women find themselves in with abusive men); and, Tom’s classic “Ramblin’ Boy”. Nice stuff, and you will be seeing more about all of these artists in this space this year.

*The Bob Dylan Bootleg Legacy- The Royal Albert Hall Concert of 1966- You Do Need The Band To Play The Last Waltz- The Band's LeVon Healms Passes At 71

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

CD REVIEW

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

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

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

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

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

LIKE A ROLLING STONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DESOLATION ROW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUST LIKE TOM THUMB'S BLUES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


BALLAD OF A THIN MAN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Honor Of Newport 1965-The Not Joan Baez Female Folkies- The Music Of Carolyn Hester

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Carolyn Hester Doing " The Praties They Grow".

CD REVIEW

Carolyn Hester At Town Hall 1965, Carolyn Hester, Bear Family Records, 1990

Earlier this year I posed a question concerning the fates of a group of talented male folk singers like Tom Rush, Tom Paxton and Jesse Colin Young, who, although some of them are still performing or otherwise still on the musical scene have generally fallen off the radar in today’s mainstream musical consciousness, except, of course, the acknowledged “king of the hill”, Bob Dylan. I want to pose that same question in this entry concerning the talented female folk performers of the 1960’s, except, of course, the "queen of the hill” Joan Baez. I will start out by merely rephrasing the first paragraph from the reviews of those male performers.

“If I were to ask someone, in the year 2008, to name a female folk singer from the 1960’s I would assume that if I were to get an answer to that question that the name would be Joan Baez (or, maybe, Judy Collins but you get my point). And that would be a good and appropriate choice. One can endlessly dispute whether or not Baez was (or wanted to be) the female voice of the Generation of ’68 but in terms of longevity and productivity she fits the bill as a known quality. However, there were a slew of other female folk singers who tried to find their niche in the folk milieu and who, like Baez, may today still quietly continue to produce work and to perform. The artist under review, Carolyn Hester, certainly had the talent to challenge Baez to be “queen of the hill.”

Carolyn Hester wrote a number of good songs (“Three Young Men” here, among others), sang like a nightingale, filled Town Hall in New York City on several occasions, was political and had long, straight hair(presumably ironed as was the fashion started by Ms. Baez then) hair. Oh, yes, and was beautiful and wistful. That sounds like the formula for success in the 1960’s folk scene, right? But, and I pose this as a query as much as a statement, where is she now? Certainly off this CD (produced in 1990 from the 1965 Town Hall performances) she had a voice to die for. Listen to her on Tom Paxton’s “Outward Bound” or the classic “Summertime” or the nice musical rendition of Walt Whitman’s Lincoln tribute poem, “Captain, My Captain” or “Jute Mill Song” and several others here. Then you will be asking the same damn question that I have posed above.

O Captain! My Captain!

Walt Whitman

1

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart! 5
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

2

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills; 10
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck, 15
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

3

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

The Postman Always Rings Twice- The Folk Rock Music Of John Prine

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of John Prine performing his classic, Angel From Montgomery.

CD Review

John Prine: The Singing Mailman Delivers, John Prine, OnBoy Records, 2011

Over the last several years I have done more musically-oriented reviews that I had expected to on this site in order to flesh out the role of some of the 1960's cultural icons on the times. One of the themes that have kept cropping up is that for some folk/blues-oriented musical artists like Bob Dylan my attachment was immediate, long time and on-going. For other artists like John Prine it has been more of a recently acquired taste. In fact, my first acquaintance with the work of John Prine, at least that I was aware of, was several years ago when I was requested to get a couple of his CDs for a friend for a Christmas gift. Upon listening to those albums, that included material also produced here from his early live concerts like Hello In There, we both agreed that the best bet was to return them and get something else. Go figure.

But that is not the end of the story. I had, obviously, heard Bonnie Raitt do Prine's Angel From Montgomery long ago but I never associated his name with that song. Then a couple of years ago I happened to listen to that Hello In There mentioned above again and Sam Stone. Anyone whose has been affected by the Vietnam War experience in any way will gasp after hearing this very personal take of the destructiveness of that war for many of those who fought it, found hard drugs, and found the black hole as a result. If you want to hear a real anti-war song rather than something wistful like Where have All The Flowers Gone? and the like then listen to this one. Yes, this guy Prine had something to say that I wanted to (and on some songs, needed to) hear.

This compilation represents a very wide selection of his best work, arguably the best representation of that early work in one location that you could get. Mr. Prine is a good guitar player, a very, very good wordsmith who has produced some poetic turns of phrases here that will have you thinking for a while. Moreover on, for example, “Illegal Smile” he can show his “silly”, nonsensical side. He also frankly, has the wry sense of humor (in the classical Greek sense of that word) of a man who has been pushed around by life, has pushed back; has taken his beatings, dusted himself off and gotten back up again. You know, just the kind of guy that I, and I am sure other guys and gals of a certain age, very definitely can relate to, and in some cases like that Hello In There need to relate to. If you have just one John Prine album to get this is the one. Then start saving your dough to get the others.

In addition to the songs mentioned above listen to his cover of Hank Williams’“Jambalaya” and Prine'sParadise. Also Quiet Man, Souvenirs, and A Good Time.

*Once More Into The Time Capsule- The New York Folk Revival Scene in the Early 1960’s

Click On Title To Link To YouTube' Film Clip Of Woody Guthrie Performing "Hard Travelin'".

CD Review

A number of the more important or famous performers on these CDs will get a reprieve here by having separate entries under this same headline

Washington Square Memoirs: The Great Urban Folk Revival Boom, 1950-1970, various artists, 3CD set, Rhino Records, 2001

Okay, let’s go through the geography of this seemingly endless review of folk revival of the 1960’s tour that I have been conducting over the past year or so. I have gone down the byways and back alleys of Bleeker Street. I have tipped my hat to McDougall Street and its “mayor” (the late Dave Van Ronk). I have been positively 4th Street more times that I can shake a stick at (Bob Dylan’s old haunts). So now to round out this tour of a few square blocks of lower Manhattan that made some musical history in the early 1960’s that I am reviewing, make that proudly reviewing, I am, hopefully, finishing up with this compilation entitled “Washington Square Memoirs”. And this is an apt place to wind up the tour because, in a sense, this is the place where it all got hashed out before it got to the coffeehouses, other venues and those hard sought after recording contracts. If you couldn’t make it as a musician in the park (an, at times, not very high bar to get over) then you had better take your act elsewhere. Like, maybe, East Orange, New Jersey.

I mentioned in a recent review of “Friends Of Old Time Music”, a CD featuring mountain music, another separate strand of the folk revival that ran through New York City in the early 1960’s, the following:

“This three disc compilation (including an incredibly informative booklet giving a mother lode of material, including photographs, about the how, when and why of bringing the mainly Southern, mainly rural talents to New York City in the early 1960s) will give the new generation and mainly older aficionados, in one place, a primer of great value. If you want to know the details of this part of the folk revival puzzle you certainly have to start here. For the beginner or the aficionado this is a worthwhile addition to the store of our common musical heritage.”

Except for the reference to the origins of the talent brought to the city the same comments apply for this CD. Rather than repeat information that is readily available in the booklet and on the discs I’ll finish up here with some recommendations of songs that I believe that you should be sure to listen to:

Disc One; Woody Guthrie on “Hard Travelin’”, Big Bill Broonzy on “Black , Brown And White”, Jean Ritchie on “Nottamun Town”, Josh White on “One Meat Ball”, Malvina Reynolds on “Little Boxes”, Cisco Houston on “Midnight Special”, The Weavers on “Wasn’t That A Time”, Glenn Yarborough on “Spanish Is A Loving Tongue”, Odetta on “I’ve Been Driving On Bald Mountain”, The New Lost City Ramblers on “Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down”, Bob Gibson and Bob Camp on “Betty And Dupree”, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott on “San Francisco Bay Blues”, Peggy Seeger on “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”, Hoyt Axton on “Greenback Dollar” and Carolyn Hester on “Turn And Swing Jubilee”.

Disc Two: Dave Van Ronk on “He Was A Friend Of Mine” and You’se A Viper”, The Chad Mitchell Trio on “Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream”, Hedy West on “500 Miles”, Ian &Sylvia on “Four Strong Winds”, Tom Paxton on “I Can’t Help But Wonder Where I’m Bound”, Peter, Paul And Mary on “Blowin’ In The Wind”, Bob Dylan on “Boots Of Spanish Leather”, Jesse Colin Young on “Four In The Morning”, Joan Baez on “There But For Fortune”, Judy Roderick on “Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?”, Bonnie Dobson on “Morning Dew”, Buffy Sainte-Marie on “Cod’ine” and Eric Von Schmidt on “ Joshua Gone Barbados”.

Disc Three: Phil Ochs on “I Ain’t Marching Anymore”, Richard &Mimi Farina on “Pack Up Your Sorrows”, John Hammond on “Drop Down Mama”, Jim Kweskin & The Jug Band on “Rag Mama”, John Denver on “Bells Of Rhymney”, Gordon Lightfoot on "Early Morning Rain”, Eric Andersen on “Thirsty Boots”, Tim Hardin on “Reason To Believe”, Richie Havens on “Just Like A Woman”, Judy Collins on “Suzanne”, Tim Buckley on “Once I Was”, Tom Rush on “The Circle Game”, Taj Mahal on “Candy Man”, Loudon Wainwright III on “School Days” and Arlo Guthrie on “The Motorcycle Song”

"Hard Travelin'" -Woody Guthrie and Cisco Houston

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Folk Potpourri- Part Three-Mark Spoelstra

Click On Title To Link To Rhapsody's Presentation Of "Mark Spoelstra At Club 47". For Those Unfamiliar With 1960's Folk Revival History Club 47 (Now Club Passim) Was The "Mecca" Of The Boston/Cambridge Folk Scene With The Likes Of Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Tom Rush And The Artist Under Review Holding Forth There. Those Were The Days. Sorry, I Could Not Find A YouTube Link For Mark Spoelstra.

CD REVIEW

Five & Twenty Questions, Mark Spoelstra, Collectors’ Choice Music, 2006

Over the past year or so I have been reviewing many of the male folksingers who proliferated in the early 1960’s folk revival and who threw their hats in the ring to be “king of the hill” of the burgeoning folk scene (the women singers of the period are to be looked at separately later). Names such as Tom Rush, Tom Paxton, Jesse Colin Young and Jesse Winchester have already been reviewed. These are performers, for the most part, who still work the small concert and coffee house circuit but whose names are probably very unfamiliar to today’s musical audience, folk or otherwise. I approached my theme initially under the sign of this question; what qualities, personal and musical, make some singers succeed and others fall by the wayside?

We know that Bob Dylan, without a doubt, wanted to win that contest for supremacy and did so. I think that Dylan answered the why of that question himself in one of the snippets of interviews in the Martin Scorsese documentary of his early career, “No Direction Home”. There he noted, when asked why audiences gravitated to his songs, that while there was plenty of talent around most singers sang their message over the audience (I think that he meant in the literal performing sense, as well as intellectually) but that it was necessary to “speak” to the audience. To our sense of longing for identity, for some knowledge of life’s mystery, and for that some one who could express in our own tribal youth language the words that we needed to push on with. Well, Dylan certainly did that to a generation, my generation, that saw “the answer blowing in the wind” and desperately hoped that “the times were a-changin’’’.

The folk artist under review, Mark Spoestra is one of the male singers that I have not mentioned previously, although he was certainly in the mix of things in the early 1960’s. In fact, his “resurrection” here is due to my having seen his “talking head” commentary on that “No Direction Home” Scorsese production. I do not know the particulars of his later story but the work here on this CD is a case in point about the Dylan comment. (I note that after this review was written I found out that Mark Spoelstra had died in 2007.)

Certainly his lyrics are strong and are right in the Woody Guthrie (and later, Dylan himself) troubadour tradition of spreading the news of the day. “Five & Twenty Questions” and, more so, the tragic story outlined in “Ballad Of 12th Avenue”, about the desperation of a used up man in the bowels of modern American society that has left him with no resources but the gun to work out his problems, are in that mode. “On The Road Again” and “The Leaves” speak to the need to ramble and find oneself or to find love or find something that we hungered for then (and not just then either). That said, this album still leaves me with the feeling that old Mark was speaking to himself and for himself and not to me. That is the difference. A big difference. Still, if you have time listen in to someone who was struggling to find the meaning of his times and, at least on “Ballad Of 12th Street”, hit pay dirt.

He Was A Friend of Mine (Just A Hand To Hold)

Lyrics: Mark Spoelstra

Music: Mark Spoelstra

This was played by the Grateful Dead in their early days, from 1966 to 1970. It is normally in setlists as "He Was A Friend Of Mine" but it is in fact a portion of a Mark Spoelstra song "Just A Hand To Hold"

Chorus
He was, he was a friend of mine
He was, he was a friend of mine
Now he's dead and gone

This morning my best friend
Was sleeping in his bed
His face like a jewel
And he was dead

[chorus]

He liked to play games
Mark, push me on a swing
Mark, push me on a merry-go-round
Going round and round

[chorus]

deadsongs.vue.90 : He Was A Friend Of Mine
permalink #5 of 18: Alex Allan (alexallan) Sat 17 Sep 05 01:20

Thanks to a tip from Russ Lipetzky, I've discovered that the song we
know as "He Was A Friend Of Mine" is in fact "Just A Hand To Hold" by
Mark Spoelstra. Spoelstra recorded it on his 1965 LP "5 & 20 Questions"
and it was covered in the same year by Kathy and Carol (Kathy Larisch
and Carol McComb). I've got a copy of the latter - lyrics below. The
Grateful Dead sang just the first few verses. Mark Spoelstra used to
perform with Bob Dylan, Dave Van Ronk et al in New York in the early
1960s, which may explain the loose connection with the song "He Was A
Friend Of Mine" that they performed.

Just A Hand To Hold

Mark Spoelstra

He was, he was a friend of mine
He was, he was a friend of mine
Now he's dead and gone

This morning, my best friend
Lay still on his bed
His face like a jewel
And he was dead

He was, he was only six years old
He was, he was only six years old
So I've been told

He like to play games
Mark, push me on the swing
Mark, push me on the merry-go-round
Go round and round

Swing me, oh swing me, swing me all up and down
Spin me, oh spin me, spin me around and round
Till my feet touch the ground

He never was afraid
For he was was brave and bold
And the only thing he ever asked for
Was a hand to hold

It makes no difference where he's from or where's he's bound
And it makes no difference if he's lost or been found
He's dead and gone

But there is no power
Anywhere in this land
Like the voice used to say
Will you hold my hand

There is a voice that rings loud throughout this land
There is a voice that speaks for the black and tan
And for all of man

It's young and it's old
It's brave and it's bold
It can't be bought or sold
Just a hand to hold

*Bob Dylan's Bootleg Legacy- "To Be Young Was Very Heaven"- The 1964 Concert At The Philharmonic Hall

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Bob Dylan Doing "Gates Of Eden".

CD REVIEW

The 1964 Dylan At The Philharmonic Concert, Bootleg Series Volume 6, Sony Records, 2004

As of late I have been railing against various secondary Bob Dylan materials that are mainly of historical interest. In those cases I was describing my reactions to a two-disc set "The Basement Tapes" of about twenty songs and another five volume set entitled "The `Genuine" Basement Tapes of about one hundred songs both done with The Band in 1967 while he was "hiding" out in rural New York after his motorcycle accident. I dubbed both items as strictly for aficionados. I also noted that I was less than enamored of the virtual cottage industry that has grown up around various bootleg, basement, cellar, barn, attic or other odd versions of Dylan's work, electric or acoustic. This archival material is nice for folk, rock and cultural historians but I would argue that Mr. Bob Dylan's usually well-produced mainline albums are after over forty years more than enough to listen to without having to get into the minutia of his career. And, moreover, somehow left to feel that one has missed something without this other more esoteric material in one's collection. Having said that, I am now have to eat a little crow and recommend one bootleg volume that is a notch above the others- the famous October 1964 Philharmonic Concert.

Of course this concert falls into the above-mentioned categories of being for aficionados and music historians. But this one also, unlike some others in these series, gives a glance at what Bob Dylan was like as a performer as he was rising to the top of the folk world before the old electric/acoustic controversy fouled the air. I would draw the reader's attention to a sharp contrast between carefree, light-hearted stage presence and response to his audience here and the later 1966 Prince Albert Royal Hall Concert (Bootleg Volume 4) where he is on the defensive with his British audience and at the end of it practically ignores that audience as a result of their negative response to his going `electric'. I would also note the distant and mumbled answers of his interview style noted in Martin Scorsese's documentary "No Direction Home" of a few years ago. Here, though add his duos on Disc Two with his `paramour', folk queen Joan Baez, and the mixture is practically irresistible.

Again, virtually all the material in this set is available in more polished and technically proficient studio performances and if one has to choose, or is a Dylan rookie, then that is the place to look for his copies of his work. However, for those of us who are aficionados (Hey, I never said I wasn't, did I?) then here are some things to look for: "Gates Of Eden"; "Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall"; "It All Right, Mama" (remember that classic line "even the President must sometimes have to stand naked" as we enter the Obamian `new age'); and "Mr. Tambourine Man". Some of the more topical songs of the time (part of the true folk tradition and what keeps this genre moving forward) like "Talking World War III Blues" and "John Birch Blues" will require a translator or a click to Wikipedia to 'get' the references in those pieces. So do a little homework. That's okay here.

BALLAD OF HOLLIS BROWN

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
With his wife and five children
And his cabin fallin' down

You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
Your children are so hungry
That they don't know how to smile

Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe

The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
If there's anyone that knows
Is there anyone that cares?

You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
Your empty pockets tell yuh
That you ain't a-got no friend

Your babies are crying louder
It's pounding on your brain
Your babies are crying louder now
It's pounding on your brain
Your wife's screams are stabbin' you
Like the dirty drivin' rain

Your grass it is turning black
There's no water in your well
Your grass is turning black
There's no water in your well
You spent your last lone dollar
On seven shotgun shells

Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Your eyes fix on the shotgun
That's hangin' on the wall

Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your eyes fix on the shotgun
That you're holdin' in your hand

There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
Seven shots ring out
Like the ocean's pounding roar

There's seven people dead
On a South Dakota farm
There's seven people dead
On a South Dakota farm
Somewhere in the distance
There's seven new people born

DON'T THINK TWICE, IT'S ALL RIGHT

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don't matter, anyhow
An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don't know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I'll be gone
You're the reason I'm trav'lin' on
Don't think twice, it's all right

It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
An' it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road
Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin' anyway
So don't think twice, it's all right

It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
Like you never did before
It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
I can't hear you any more
I'm a-thinkin' and a-wond'rin' all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's all right

I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
But goodbye's too good a word, gal
So I'll just say fare thee well
I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right

GATES OF EDEN

Words and Music by Bob Dylan

Of war and peace the truth just twists
Its curfew gull just glides
Upon four-legged forest clouds
The cowboy angel rides
With his candle lit into the sun
Though its glow is waxed in black
All except when 'neath the trees of Eden

The lamppost stands with folded arms
Its iron claws attached
To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail
Though it shadows metal badge
All and all can only fall
With a crashing but meaningless blow
No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden

The savage soldier sticks his head in sand
And then complains
Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf
But still remains
Upon the beach where hound dogs bay
At ships with tattooed sails
Heading for the Gates of Eden

With a time-rusted compass blade
Aladdin and his lamp
Sits with Utopian hermit monks
Side saddle on the Golden Calf
And on their promises of paradise
You will not hear a laugh
All except inside the Gates of Eden

Relationships of ownership
They whisper in the wings
To those condemned to act accordingly
And wait for succeeding kings
And I try to harmonize with songs
The lonesome sparrow sings
There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden

The motorcycle black madonna
Two-wheeled gypsy queen
And her silver-studded phantom cause
The gray flannel dwarf to scream
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey
Who pick up on his bread crumb sins
And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden

The kingdoms of Experience
In the precious wind they rot
While paupers change possessions
Each one wishing for what the other has got
And the princess and the prince
Discuss what's real and what is not
It doesn't matter inside the Gates of Eden

The foreign sun, it squints upon
A bed that is never mine
As friends and other strangers
From their fates try to resign
Leaving men wholly, totally free
To do anything they wish to do but die
And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden

At dawn my lover comes to me
And tells me of her dreams
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means
At times I think there are no words
But these to tell what's true
And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden

A HARD RAIN'S A-GONNA FALL

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it,
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

TALKIN' JOHN BIRCH PARANOID BLUES

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1970, 1973 Special Rider Music

Well, I was feelin' sad and feelin' blue,
I didn't know what in the world I was gonna do,
Them Communists they wus comin' around,
They wus in the air,
They wus on the ground.
They wouldn't gimme no peace. . .

So I run down most hurriedly
And joined up with the John Birch Society,
I got me a secret membership card
And started off a-walkin' down the road.
Yee-hoo, I'm a real John Bircher now!
Look out you Commies!

Now we all agree with Hitlers' views,
Although he killed six million Jews.
It don't matter too much that he was a Fascist,
At least you can't say he was a Communist!
That's to say like if you got a cold you take a shot of malaria.

Well, I wus lookin' everywhere for them gol-darned Reds.
I got up in the mornin' 'n' looked under my bed,
Looked in the sink, behind the door,
Looked in the glove compartment of my car.
Couldn't find 'em . . .

I wus lookin' high an' low for them Reds everywhere,
I wus lookin' in the sink an' underneath the chair.
I looked way up my chimney hole,
I even looked deep inside my toilet bowl.
They got away . . .

Well, I wus sittin' home alone an' started to sweat,
Figured they wus in my T.V. set.
Peeked behind the picture frame,
Got a shock from my feet, hittin' right up in the brain.
Them Reds caused it!
I know they did . . . them hard-core ones.

Well, I quit my job so I could work alone,
Then I changed my name to Sherlock Holmes.
Followed some clues from my detective bag
And discovered they wus red stripes on the American flag!
That ol' Betty Ross . . .

Well, I investigated all the books in the library,
Ninety percent of 'em gotta be burned away.
I investigated all the people that I knowed,
Ninety-eight percent of them gotta go.
The other two percent are fellow Birchers . . . just like me.

Now Eisenhower, he's a Russian spy,
Lincoln, Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy.
To my knowledge there's just one man
That's really a true American: George Lincoln Rockwell.
I know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus.

Well, I fin'ly started thinkin' straight
When I run outa things to investigate.
Couldn't imagine doin' anything else,
So now I'm sittin' home investigatin' myself!
Hope I don't find out anything . . . hmm, great God!

TALKIN' WORLD WAR III BLUES

Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1963, 1966 Warner Bros Inc
Renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

Some time ago a crazy dream came to me,
I dreamt I was walkin' into World War Three,
I went to the doctor the very next day
To see what kinda words he could say.
He said it was a bad dream.
I wouldn't worry 'bout it none, though,
They were my own dreams and they're only in my head.

I said, "Hold it, Doc, a World War passed through my brain."
He said, "Nurse, get your pad, this boy's insane,"
He grabbed my arm, I said "Ouch!"
As I landed on the psychiatric couch,
He said, "Tell me about it."

Well, the whole thing started at 3 o'clock fast,
It was all over by quarter past.
I was down in the sewer with some little lover
When I peeked out from a manhole cover
Wondering who turned the lights on.

Well, I got up and walked around
And up and down the lonesome town.
I stood a-wondering which way to go,
I lit a cigarette on a parking meter
And walked on down the road.
It was a normal day.

Well, I rung the fallout shelter bell
And I leaned my head and I gave a yell,
"Give me a string bean, I'm a hungry man."
A shotgun fired and away I ran.
I don't blame them too much though,
I know I look funny.

Down at the corner by a hot-dog stand
I seen a man, I said, "Howdy friend,
I guess there's just us two."
He screamed a bit and away he flew.
Thought I was a Communist.

Well, I spied a girl and before she could leave,
"Let's go and play Adam and Eve."
I took her by the hand and my heart it was thumpin'
When she said, "Hey man, you crazy or sumpin',
You see what happened last time they started."

Well, I seen a Cadillac window uptown
And there was nobody aroun',
I got into the driver's seat
And I drove down 42nd Street
In my Cadillac.
Good car to drive after a war.

Well, I remember seein' some ad,
So I turned on my Conelrad.
But I didn't pay my Con Ed bill,
So the radio didn't work so well.
Turned on my record playerÑ
It was Rock-A-Day, Johnny singin',
"Tell Your Ma, Tell Your Pa,
Our Loves Are Gonna Grow Ooh-wah, Ooh-wah."

I was feelin' kinda lonesome and blue,
I needed somebody to talk to.
So I called up the operator of time
Just to hear a voice of some kind.
"When you hear the beep
It will be three o'clock,"
She said that for over an hour
And I hung it up.

Well, the doctor interrupted me just about then,
Sayin, "Hey I've been havin' the same old dreams,
But mine was a little different you see.
I dreamt that the only person left after the war was me.
I didn't see you around."

Well, now time passed and now it seems
Everybody's having them dreams.
Everybody sees themselves walkin' around with no one else.
Half of the people can be part right all of the time,
Some of the people can be all right part of the time.
But all of the people canÕt be right all of the time.
I think Abraham Lincoln said that.
"I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours,"
I said that.

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

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

CD REVIEW

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

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

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

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

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


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

Lead Belly - The Bourgeois Blues Lyrics

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

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

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

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

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

Alabama Bound lyrics

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


Rock Island Line lyrics

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


Take This Hammer lyrics

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


(Good Night) Irene lyrics


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