Click on title to link link to YouTube's film clip of Rabbit Brown performing his James Alley Blues".
Markin comment November 17, 2009:
This is a late addition to the great working class love songs contest. This is from the famous "Harry Smith's Anthology Of American Folk Music". It is a classic. I note that the three selection are all male-voiced (ouch). Well, what about it? If women have a selection I would me more than happy to put it in the contest.
Markin comment:
No, old Markin has not gone off the deep end. But every once in a while I like to get a little whimsical, especially if I have music on my mind. Let’s face it , communist political realists that we are we cannot (or should not go) 24/7 on the heavy questions of health care, the struggle against the banks and other capitalist institutions, the fight for a working wage and the big fight looming ahead on Afghanistan without a little relief. So, for this moment, I ask this question –what is the great working class love song (in English)?
Now there are plenty of them I am sure but I control the stick today. You have to choose between my two (now three, see above)selections. Richard Thompson’s classic motorcycle love song (which, of course, if you read the lyrics, borders very closely to the lumpen proletarian-but so does working class existence, especially down among the working poor, for that matter). Or, Tom Waits’ version of the classic weekend- freedom seeking “Jersey Girl”. And, after that……… Obama, Troops Out Of Afghanistan- Free Quality Health care For All- Down With The Wall Street Bankers. See, I told you I had not gone off the deep end.
James Alley Blues
Times right now ain't nothin' like they used to be
Well times right now ain't nothin' like they used to be
You know I'll tell you all the truth, won't you take my word from me
Well I seen better days, but I ain't puttin' up with these
Well I've seen better days, but I ain't puttin' up with these
I had a lot better time with those women down in New Orleans
Well I was born in the country so she thinks I'm easy to lose
Well I was born in the country so she thinks I'm easy to lose
She wants to hitch me to a wagon and drive me like a mule
I bought her a gold ring and I pay the rent
I bought her a gold ring and I pay the rent
She tried to get me to wash her clothes but I got good common sense
Well if you don't want me then why don't you just tell me so?
Well if you don't want me then why don't you just tell me so?
It ain't like I'm a man that ain't got nowhere else to go
I give you sugar for sugar, but all you want is salt for salt
I give you sugar for sugar, but all you want is salt for salt
Well if you can't get along with me, then it's your own fault
Well, you want me to love you, but then you just treat me mean
Yea, you want me to love you, but then you just treat me mean
You're my daily thought and you're my nightly dream
Well, sometimes I think that you're just too sweet to die
Ah, sometimes I think that you're just too sweet to die
And other times I think that you ought to be buried alive
found on: The Harry Smith Connection: A Live Tribute
words: Rabbit Brown (traditional)
This space is dedicated to the proposition that we need to know the history of the struggles on the left and of earlier progressive movements here and world-wide. If we can learn from the mistakes made in the past (as well as what went right) we can move forward in the future to create a more just and equitable society. We will be reviewing books, CDs, and movies we believe everyone needs to read, hear and look at as well as making commentary from time to time. Greg Green, site manager
Saturday, October 03, 2009
*Today's Burning Question Of The Class Struggle- The Search For The Great Working Class Love Song- "Jersey Girl "
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Tom Waits performing his cover of "Jersey Girl"
No, old Markin has not gone off the deep end. But every once in a while I like to get a little whimsical, especially if I have music on my mind. Let’s face it , communist political realists that we are we cannot (or shouldn’t go) 24/7 on the heavy questions of health care, the struggle against the banks and other capitalist institutions, the fight for a working wage and the big fight looming ahead on Afghanistan without a little relief. So, for this moment, I ask this question –what is THe great working class love song?
Now there are plenty of them I am sure but I control the stick today. You have to choose between my two selections. Richard Thompson’s classic motorcycle love song (which, of course, if you read the lyrics, borders very closely to the lumpenproletarian-but so does working class existence, especially down among the working poor, for that matter). Or, Tom Waits’ version of the classic weekend freedom seeking “Jersey Girl”. And, after that.....Obama, Troops Out Of Afghanistan- Free Quality Healthcare For All- Down With The Wall Street Bankers. See, I told you I had not gone off the deep end.
"Jersey Girl"-Tom Waits Lyrics
I got no time for the corner boys
Down in the street making all that noise
Or the girls out on the avenue
'Cause tonight I wanna be with you
Tonight I'm gonna take that ride
Across the river to the Jersey side
Take my baby to the carnival
And I'll take her on all the rides
'Cause down the shore everything's all right
You and your baby on a Saturday night
You know all my dreams come true
When I'm walking down the street with you
Sing sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
Sha la la la I'm in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
You know she thrills me with all her charms
When I'm wrapped up in my baby's arms
My little girl gives me everything
I know that some day she'll wear my ring
So don't bother me man, I ain't got no time
I'm on my way to see that girl of mine
'Cause nothing matters in this whole wide world
When you're in love with a Jersey girl
Sing sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
Sha la la la I'm in love with a Jjersey girl
Sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
When I call your name, I can sleep all night
Sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
Sha la la la I'm in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
Sha la la la I'm in love, I'm in love with a Jersey girl
"Jersey Girl"-Bruce Springsteen Lyrics
I got no time for the corner boys
Down in the street makin' all that noise
All the girls out on the avenue
'Cause tonight I wanna be with you
Tonight I'm gonna take that ride
Across the river to the Jersey side
Take my baby to the carnival
And I?ll take her on all the rides
'Cause down the shore everything?s alright
You and your baby on a Saturday night
And you know all my dreams come true
When I?m walking down the street with you
Sing sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la, well, I?m in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la
You know she thrills me with all her charms
When I?m wrapped up in my baby?s arms
My little girl gives me everything
I know someday that she?ll wear my ring
So don?t bother me man, I ain?t got no time
I?m on my way to see that girl of mine
'Cause nothing matters in this whole wide world
When you?re in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la, I?m in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la
I see you on the street and you look so tired
Girl, I know that job you got leaves you so uninspired
When I come by to take you out to eat
You?re lyin? all dressed up on the bed, baby, fast asleep
Go in the bathroom, put your makeup on
We?re gonna take that little brat of yours
And drop her off at your moms
I know a place where the dancing?s free
Now baby, won?t you come with me
'Cause down the shore everything?s alright
You and your baby on a Saturday night
Nothing matters in this whole wide world, now girl, now, now
When you?re in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la I?m in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la
No, old Markin has not gone off the deep end. But every once in a while I like to get a little whimsical, especially if I have music on my mind. Let’s face it , communist political realists that we are we cannot (or shouldn’t go) 24/7 on the heavy questions of health care, the struggle against the banks and other capitalist institutions, the fight for a working wage and the big fight looming ahead on Afghanistan without a little relief. So, for this moment, I ask this question –what is THe great working class love song?
Now there are plenty of them I am sure but I control the stick today. You have to choose between my two selections. Richard Thompson’s classic motorcycle love song (which, of course, if you read the lyrics, borders very closely to the lumpenproletarian-but so does working class existence, especially down among the working poor, for that matter). Or, Tom Waits’ version of the classic weekend freedom seeking “Jersey Girl”. And, after that.....Obama, Troops Out Of Afghanistan- Free Quality Healthcare For All- Down With The Wall Street Bankers. See, I told you I had not gone off the deep end.
"Jersey Girl"-Tom Waits Lyrics
I got no time for the corner boys
Down in the street making all that noise
Or the girls out on the avenue
'Cause tonight I wanna be with you
Tonight I'm gonna take that ride
Across the river to the Jersey side
Take my baby to the carnival
And I'll take her on all the rides
'Cause down the shore everything's all right
You and your baby on a Saturday night
You know all my dreams come true
When I'm walking down the street with you
Sing sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
Sha la la la I'm in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
You know she thrills me with all her charms
When I'm wrapped up in my baby's arms
My little girl gives me everything
I know that some day she'll wear my ring
So don't bother me man, I ain't got no time
I'm on my way to see that girl of mine
'Cause nothing matters in this whole wide world
When you're in love with a Jersey girl
Sing sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
Sha la la la I'm in love with a Jjersey girl
Sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
When I call your name, I can sleep all night
Sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
Sha la la la I'm in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la, sha la la la, sha la la la
Sha la la la I'm in love, I'm in love with a Jersey girl
"Jersey Girl"-Bruce Springsteen Lyrics
I got no time for the corner boys
Down in the street makin' all that noise
All the girls out on the avenue
'Cause tonight I wanna be with you
Tonight I'm gonna take that ride
Across the river to the Jersey side
Take my baby to the carnival
And I?ll take her on all the rides
'Cause down the shore everything?s alright
You and your baby on a Saturday night
And you know all my dreams come true
When I?m walking down the street with you
Sing sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la, well, I?m in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la
You know she thrills me with all her charms
When I?m wrapped up in my baby?s arms
My little girl gives me everything
I know someday that she?ll wear my ring
So don?t bother me man, I ain?t got no time
I?m on my way to see that girl of mine
'Cause nothing matters in this whole wide world
When you?re in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la, I?m in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la
I see you on the street and you look so tired
Girl, I know that job you got leaves you so uninspired
When I come by to take you out to eat
You?re lyin? all dressed up on the bed, baby, fast asleep
Go in the bathroom, put your makeup on
We?re gonna take that little brat of yours
And drop her off at your moms
I know a place where the dancing?s free
Now baby, won?t you come with me
'Cause down the shore everything?s alright
You and your baby on a Saturday night
Nothing matters in this whole wide world, now girl, now, now
When you?re in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la I?m in love with a Jersey girl
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la la la
Sha la la la la la la
Sha la la la
Friday, October 02, 2009
*Organized Labor's Rally In Boston On The One Year Anniversary Of The Wall Street Meltdown
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of a rally in Boston sponsored by the organized labor movement on the one year anniversary of the Wall Street meltdown. Labor is hurting, somewhat disorganized and filled with illusions about capitalism's ability to do social justice to speak nothing about the illusions in the Obama government's "goodwill" but this kind of thing is a small start in the right direction.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
*A History Of The Chinese Revolution- Short Course- Professor Bianco’s View
Click on title to link to "China Essays Series" for an academic article from later than the period discussed in the book reviewed below, "Capitalism, Socialism and The 1949 Chinese Revolution: What Was The Cold War All About?". Once you get the basic academic facts of the Chinese revolution out of the way then you are 'ready' for the political questions. In short, the fate of the Chinese revolution in 2009 and the road forward.
Honor the 60th Anniversary Of The Chinese Revolution.
Book Review
Origins Of The Chinese Revolution, 1915-1949, Lucien Bianco, translated from the French by Muriel Bell, Stanford University Press, Stanford, California, 1971
I am a child of the Russian Revolution, the Bolshevik-led one of October 1917. Not literarily, of course, but by inclination even from way back in the days when I was nothing but a teenage snotty-nosed, half- wise liberal political manqué. That pro-Russian inclination, naturally, or at least it seemed natural to me then and still seems so to me now, came from being raised in one of the desperately working poor families in America in the 1950s. Any theory, philosophy or creed that promised that the working class would, and should, rule seemed mighty appealing even if I was fuzzy on the specifics of that proposition. I will not go into all the details of getting much less fuzzy on the specifics of that here, because I want to focus on the subject of the Chinese Revolution, but early on I actually wanted to meet and work with real, live communists here in America who represented to my mind, despite the hardened attitudes of the Cold War, the fruits of the Russian revolution.
And that is the nut, here. The more contemporary (in terms of my political evolution) Chinese revolution (victorious in 1949) did not hold nearly the attraction for this reviewer as did the Russian. And, that made sense, as well. After all, fuzzy or not about the details of the Chinese revolution as I was then, that revolution was a peasant revolution even if it was led by ostensibly Communist forces. Moreover, later, even at the height of the leftist curve in the late 1960s and early 1970s when guerrilla warfare was all the rage on the international left and one HAD to take sides in both the Soviet/Chinese dispute and which faction to support in the Chinese Cultural Revolution I tended to give a big yawn. What, it seems needless to say now, organic connections could a city boy, a hard core city boy at that who got nervous if he could not see the lights of the big city on the horizon, have with those who tilled the soil. All of this is by way of making something of an apology here for a somewhat neglectful absence of material about the Chinese revolution in this space. This will begin to be rectified in reviewing the work below and in future reviews as, from my perspective, the fate of that revolution hangs in the balance over the next years.
As we approach the 60th Anniversary of the victorious Chinese revolution of 1949 I believe that it is probably a good idea to review how that revolution happened. China, one way or another, has become a major player on the world economic scene since that time. Moreover, it represents the last major expression, in some recognizable form, of the Marxist idea of a workers state that drove the international politic of the 20th century. Although I would characterize the revolutionary upheaval in China in first half of the 20th century as predictable the victory of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) was not so, rather it was a near thing. I would argue, and will do so at another time, that without the Russian revolution and the lessons learned there, even if not directly applied in China, the Chinese revolution would not have had the leadership necessarily to produce even an agrarian-centered revolution. Professor Bianco, the author of the work under review, would not necessarily agree with that conclusion. He nevertheless wrote an important book that while rather academic for the time of publication (late 1960s) is a very good primer for those who want a first gloss of what the Chinese revolution was all about.
There is, moreover, a certain method to my madness in choosing this book rather than another later one to introduce the various pre-revolutionary stages of the Chinese revolution. The period, as noted above, when Professor Bianco was writing his boo was a period of intense ideological struggle in the international left about which road to take to socialism- the Russian or Chinese? Moreover, this was the heyday of the ‘armchair’ guerilla revolutionary theorist, in the wake of the Cuban, Algerian and Vietnamese revolutions. Thus, Professor Bianco’s presentation of the stages of the Chinese revolution had a timely aspect in intersecting those disputes. Furthermore the professor book reflects some very different lessons from those that would be drawn today from a look at that same information. For examples, the well-touted vanguard role of the peasant in world revolution and the strategy of guerilla warfare in the fight against international imperialism have fallen off the political map.
So what has Professor Bianco to tell us as we struggle with the Chinese question today? Most importantly, that in the age of world imperialism as it emerged in the very early 20th century and the international expansion of the capitalist system (“globalization”, for you more modern terminological types) down to the “third world” farms meant that the old-fashioned Chinese “feudal” system with its archaic and hide-bound class structure that had survived helter-skelter for millennia was doomed. The fight to modernize China in the post-Empire period (1915), Western-style, led first by the intelligentsia as a class, then by various military types including Chiang-Kai-shek and his Kuomintang (KMT) (old style, as used in the book), and ultimately by Mao’s CCP/Red Army apparatus forms the heart of the book.
There are key moments in that fight, as highlighted in the book, some that have enduring importance others which seemed so at the time but have now been eclipsed. Thus the good professor informs us about the intellectuals who led May 4th Movement in 1919 and the subsequent founding of the CCP, the alliance between the KMT and the CCP that ended in disaster (for the CCP) in 1927, the various later attempts to utterly destroy the CCP and its withdrawal from the cities, the urban working classes and its hard turn to reliance on a peasant-based army (The Long March period). There is the military struggle with Japan that begins in earnest in the late 1930s, the eventual subordination of threat struggle to the dictates of the Western imperial powers, especially the Americans, and then post- World War II civil war that led to the CCP victory against the forces of the KMT in 1949.
Along with the narrative of key events the professor provides his take on the intellectual antecedents of the revolution, the social milieus (urban, rural, landlord, tenant, the various gradations of peasant farming and so on) that the various parties were working in and from which they drew their support, various interpretations that earlier analysts, including American agents, placed on the peasant revolution and prospects for extension of the revolution to other parts of Asia. This book is clearly not your last stop in finding out about the roots of the Chinese revolution but it certainly is a worthy starting point. Plus it contains a good bibliography, as to be expected in an academic work, which points you to other sources to round out the story.
Honor the 60th Anniversary Of The Chinese Revolution.
Book Review
Origins Of The Chinese Revolution, 1915-1949, Lucien Bianco, translated from the French by Muriel Bell, Stanford University Press, Stanford, California, 1971
I am a child of the Russian Revolution, the Bolshevik-led one of October 1917. Not literarily, of course, but by inclination even from way back in the days when I was nothing but a teenage snotty-nosed, half- wise liberal political manqué. That pro-Russian inclination, naturally, or at least it seemed natural to me then and still seems so to me now, came from being raised in one of the desperately working poor families in America in the 1950s. Any theory, philosophy or creed that promised that the working class would, and should, rule seemed mighty appealing even if I was fuzzy on the specifics of that proposition. I will not go into all the details of getting much less fuzzy on the specifics of that here, because I want to focus on the subject of the Chinese Revolution, but early on I actually wanted to meet and work with real, live communists here in America who represented to my mind, despite the hardened attitudes of the Cold War, the fruits of the Russian revolution.
And that is the nut, here. The more contemporary (in terms of my political evolution) Chinese revolution (victorious in 1949) did not hold nearly the attraction for this reviewer as did the Russian. And, that made sense, as well. After all, fuzzy or not about the details of the Chinese revolution as I was then, that revolution was a peasant revolution even if it was led by ostensibly Communist forces. Moreover, later, even at the height of the leftist curve in the late 1960s and early 1970s when guerrilla warfare was all the rage on the international left and one HAD to take sides in both the Soviet/Chinese dispute and which faction to support in the Chinese Cultural Revolution I tended to give a big yawn. What, it seems needless to say now, organic connections could a city boy, a hard core city boy at that who got nervous if he could not see the lights of the big city on the horizon, have with those who tilled the soil. All of this is by way of making something of an apology here for a somewhat neglectful absence of material about the Chinese revolution in this space. This will begin to be rectified in reviewing the work below and in future reviews as, from my perspective, the fate of that revolution hangs in the balance over the next years.
As we approach the 60th Anniversary of the victorious Chinese revolution of 1949 I believe that it is probably a good idea to review how that revolution happened. China, one way or another, has become a major player on the world economic scene since that time. Moreover, it represents the last major expression, in some recognizable form, of the Marxist idea of a workers state that drove the international politic of the 20th century. Although I would characterize the revolutionary upheaval in China in first half of the 20th century as predictable the victory of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) was not so, rather it was a near thing. I would argue, and will do so at another time, that without the Russian revolution and the lessons learned there, even if not directly applied in China, the Chinese revolution would not have had the leadership necessarily to produce even an agrarian-centered revolution. Professor Bianco, the author of the work under review, would not necessarily agree with that conclusion. He nevertheless wrote an important book that while rather academic for the time of publication (late 1960s) is a very good primer for those who want a first gloss of what the Chinese revolution was all about.
There is, moreover, a certain method to my madness in choosing this book rather than another later one to introduce the various pre-revolutionary stages of the Chinese revolution. The period, as noted above, when Professor Bianco was writing his boo was a period of intense ideological struggle in the international left about which road to take to socialism- the Russian or Chinese? Moreover, this was the heyday of the ‘armchair’ guerilla revolutionary theorist, in the wake of the Cuban, Algerian and Vietnamese revolutions. Thus, Professor Bianco’s presentation of the stages of the Chinese revolution had a timely aspect in intersecting those disputes. Furthermore the professor book reflects some very different lessons from those that would be drawn today from a look at that same information. For examples, the well-touted vanguard role of the peasant in world revolution and the strategy of guerilla warfare in the fight against international imperialism have fallen off the political map.
So what has Professor Bianco to tell us as we struggle with the Chinese question today? Most importantly, that in the age of world imperialism as it emerged in the very early 20th century and the international expansion of the capitalist system (“globalization”, for you more modern terminological types) down to the “third world” farms meant that the old-fashioned Chinese “feudal” system with its archaic and hide-bound class structure that had survived helter-skelter for millennia was doomed. The fight to modernize China in the post-Empire period (1915), Western-style, led first by the intelligentsia as a class, then by various military types including Chiang-Kai-shek and his Kuomintang (KMT) (old style, as used in the book), and ultimately by Mao’s CCP/Red Army apparatus forms the heart of the book.
There are key moments in that fight, as highlighted in the book, some that have enduring importance others which seemed so at the time but have now been eclipsed. Thus the good professor informs us about the intellectuals who led May 4th Movement in 1919 and the subsequent founding of the CCP, the alliance between the KMT and the CCP that ended in disaster (for the CCP) in 1927, the various later attempts to utterly destroy the CCP and its withdrawal from the cities, the urban working classes and its hard turn to reliance on a peasant-based army (The Long March period). There is the military struggle with Japan that begins in earnest in the late 1930s, the eventual subordination of threat struggle to the dictates of the Western imperial powers, especially the Americans, and then post- World War II civil war that led to the CCP victory against the forces of the KMT in 1949.
Along with the narrative of key events the professor provides his take on the intellectual antecedents of the revolution, the social milieus (urban, rural, landlord, tenant, the various gradations of peasant farming and so on) that the various parties were working in and from which they drew their support, various interpretations that earlier analysts, including American agents, placed on the peasant revolution and prospects for extension of the revolution to other parts of Asia. This book is clearly not your last stop in finding out about the roots of the Chinese revolution but it certainly is a worthy starting point. Plus it contains a good bibliography, as to be expected in an academic work, which points you to other sources to round out the story.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
*On The Question Of The "N" Word- A Guest Commentary
Click on title to link to an article reprinted from Young Spartacus pages of Workers Vanguard No. 807, 1 August 2003, "The "N" Word In Racist America".
Markin comment:
In an entry today concerning Lead Belly's classic, "Bourgeois Blues", I let his original lyrics remain. I also pointed out that I have many political, social and personal family reasons for not liking or using the word. I, generally, agree with the sentiments in the linked article on this subject. Read on.
Markin comment:
In an entry today concerning Lead Belly's classic, "Bourgeois Blues", I let his original lyrics remain. I also pointed out that I have many political, social and personal family reasons for not liking or using the word. I, generally, agree with the sentiments in the linked article on this subject. Read on.
* Sometimes It Takes A Song To Tell The Political Truth- Lead Belly's "Bourgeois Blues"
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Lead Belly performing "Bourgeois Blues". Those offended by the "n" word, as I am for a whole bunch of current social, political and personal reasons, hold your noses BUT listen this is the artist at work. Let him tell it his way.
Markin comment:
Some days it takes a song to kind of put things in political perspective. I ran across this old Lead Belly tune written by him after he was constantly subject to Jim Crow legal and social segregation sanctions in Washington, D.C. and elsewhere. Although today there is a black face in the White House for most blacks (just look at the scary unemployment numbers for blacks for one thing), other minorities and the rest of us this song is a simple truth about where we stand today. Change the "n" word and it fits many of us. Time to get moving on that socialist agenda to turn things around. And by the way, Mr. President, get the troops the hell out of Afghanistan now.
"Bourgeois Blues"
Me and my wife went all over town
And everywhere we went people turned us down
Lord, in a bourgeois town
It's a bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say'n I don't want no niggers up there
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a nigger just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC
'Cause it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Markin comment:
Some days it takes a song to kind of put things in political perspective. I ran across this old Lead Belly tune written by him after he was constantly subject to Jim Crow legal and social segregation sanctions in Washington, D.C. and elsewhere. Although today there is a black face in the White House for most blacks (just look at the scary unemployment numbers for blacks for one thing), other minorities and the rest of us this song is a simple truth about where we stand today. Change the "n" word and it fits many of us. Time to get moving on that socialist agenda to turn things around. And by the way, Mr. President, get the troops the hell out of Afghanistan now.
"Bourgeois Blues"
Me and my wife went all over town
And everywhere we went people turned us down
Lord, in a bourgeois town
It's a bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, me and my wife we were standing upstairs
We heard the white man say'n I don't want no niggers up there
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Home of the brave, land of the free
I don't wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie
Lord, in a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Well, them white folks in Washington they know how
To call a colored man a nigger just to see him bow
Lord, it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
I tell all the colored folks to listen to me
Don't try to find you no home in Washington, DC
'Cause it's a bourgeois town
Uhm, the bourgeois town
I got the bourgeois blues
Gonna spread the news all around
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Our Mother, The Mountain- The Music Of Jean Ritchie"
Our Mother, The Mountain- The Traditional Mountain Music Of Jean Ritchie
CD REVIEW
Mountain Hearth And Home, Jean Ritchie, Rhino Handmade, 2004
The last time that the name of traditional mountain folk singer Jean Ritchie was mentioned in this space was as part of the lineup in Rosalie Sorrel’s last concert at Harvard University that spawned a CD, The Last Go-Round. At that concert she, as usual, she performed, accompanied by her sweet dulcimer, the mountain music particularly the music that she learned in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky and that she has been associated with going back at least to the early 1960’s. Here, in the CD under review, Mountain Hearth and Home, we get a wide range of those traditional mountain songs from those parts that provide something for every palate.
The songs, simple songs of the mountains that befit a simple folk with simple lyrics, chords and instrumentation representing what was at hand, many of which have their genesis back in the hills of Scotland and Ireland, never fail to evoke a primordial response in this listener. The songs speak of the longings created by those isolated spaces; and, occasionally of those almost eternal thoughts of love, love thwarted, love gone wrong or love disappearing without a trace. Or songs of the hard life of the mountains whether it is the hard scrabble to make a life from the rocky farmland that will not give forth without great struggle or of the mines, the coal mines that in an earlier time (and that are making a comeback now out west) represented a key energy source for a growing industrial society. Many a tale here centers on the trails and tribulations of the weary, worked-out mines and miners. Add in some country lullabies, some religiously-oriented songs representing the fundamental Protestant ethic that drove these people and some Saturday dancing and drinking songs and you have a pretty good feel for the range of experience out there in the hills, hollows and ravines of Eastern Kentucky.
Several time over the past year or so I have mentioned, as part of my remembrances of my youth and of my political and familial background, that my father was a coal miner and the son of a coal miner in the hills of Hazard, Kentucky (a town mentioned in a couple of the songs here) in the heart of Appalachia. I have also mentioned that he was a child of the Great Depression and of World War II. He often joked that in a choice between digging the coal and taking his chances in war he much preferred the latter. Thus, it was no accident that when war came he volunteered for the Marines and, as fate would have it, despite a hard, hard life after the war, he never looked back to the mines or the hills. Still this music flowed in his veins, and, I guess, flows in mine.
My Boy Willie
Traditional
Notes: This song has the exact same tunes as the song "The Butcher Boy" and is of a similar theme.
It was early, early in the spring
my boy Willie went to serve the king
And all that vexed him and grieved his mind
was the leaving of his dear girl behind.
Oh father dear build me a boat
that on the ocean I might float
And hail the ships as they pass by
for to inquire of my sailor boy.
She had not sailed long in the deep
when a fine ship's crew she chanced to meet
And of the captain she inquired to
"Does my boy Willie sail on board with you?"
"What sort of a lad is your Willie fair?
What sort of clothes does your Willie wear?"
"He wears a coat of royal blue,
and you'll surely know him for his heart is true".
"If that's your Willie he is not here.
Your Willie's drowned as you did fear.
'Twas at yonder green island as we passed by,
it was there we lost a fine sailor boy".
Go dig my grave long wide and deep,
put a marble stone at my head and feet.
And in the middle, a turtle dove.
So the whole world knows that I died of love.
"The L & N Don't Stop Here Anymore"
When I was a curly headed baby
My daddy sat me down on his knee
He said, "son, go to school and get your letters,
Don't you be a dusty coal miner, boy, like me."
[Chorus:]
I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow
The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door
But now they stand in a rusty row all empty
Because the l & n don't stop here anymore
I used to think my daddy was a black man
With script enough to buy the company store
But now he goes to town with empty pockets
And his face is white as a February snow
[Chorus]
I never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust
I never thought I'd pray to hear that whistle roar
Oh, god, I wish the grass would turn to money
And those green backs would fill my pockets once more
[Chorus]
Last night I dreamed I went down to the office
To get my pay like a had done before
But them ol' kudzu vines were coverin' the door
And there were leaves and grass growin' right up through the floor
[Chorus]
Come All Ye Fair And Tender Ladies
Come all ye fair and tender ladies
Take warning how you court your men
They're like a star on a summer morning
They first appear and then they're gone
They'll tell to you some loving story
And they'll make you think that they love you well
And away they'll go and court some other
And leave you there in grief to dwell
I wish I was on some tall mountain
Where the ivy rocks were black as ink
I'd write a letter to my false true lover
Whose cheeks are like the morning pink
I wish I was a little sparrow
And I had wings to fly so high
I'd fly to the arms of my false true lover
And when he'd ask, I would deny
Oh love is handsome, love is charming
And love is pretty while it's new
But love grows cold as love grows older
And fades away like morning dew
"BLACK IS THE COLOUR"
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands
I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
But some times I whish the day will come
That she and I will be as one
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands
I walk to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands
Blue Diamond Mines
I remember the ways in the bygone days
when we was all in our prime
When us and John L. we give the old man hell
down in the Blue Diamond Mine
Well the whistle would blow 'for the rooster crow
full two hours before daylight
When a man done his best and earned his good rest
at seven dollars a night
In the mines in the mines
in the Blue Diamond Mines
I worked my life away
In the mines in the mines
In the Blue Diamond Mines
I fall on my knees and pray.
You old black gold you've taken my lung
your dust has darkened my home
And now I am old and you've turned your back
where else can an old miner go
Well it's Algomer Block and Big Leather Woods
now its Blue Diamond too
The bits are all closed get another job
what else can an old miner do?
Now the union is dead and they shake their heads
well mining has had it's day
But they're stripping off my mountain top
and they pay me eight dollars a day
Now you might get a little poke of welfare meal
get a little poke of welfare flour
But I tell you right now your won't qualify
'till you work for a quarter an hour.
CD REVIEW
Mountain Hearth And Home, Jean Ritchie, Rhino Handmade, 2004
The last time that the name of traditional mountain folk singer Jean Ritchie was mentioned in this space was as part of the lineup in Rosalie Sorrel’s last concert at Harvard University that spawned a CD, The Last Go-Round. At that concert she, as usual, she performed, accompanied by her sweet dulcimer, the mountain music particularly the music that she learned in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky and that she has been associated with going back at least to the early 1960’s. Here, in the CD under review, Mountain Hearth and Home, we get a wide range of those traditional mountain songs from those parts that provide something for every palate.
The songs, simple songs of the mountains that befit a simple folk with simple lyrics, chords and instrumentation representing what was at hand, many of which have their genesis back in the hills of Scotland and Ireland, never fail to evoke a primordial response in this listener. The songs speak of the longings created by those isolated spaces; and, occasionally of those almost eternal thoughts of love, love thwarted, love gone wrong or love disappearing without a trace. Or songs of the hard life of the mountains whether it is the hard scrabble to make a life from the rocky farmland that will not give forth without great struggle or of the mines, the coal mines that in an earlier time (and that are making a comeback now out west) represented a key energy source for a growing industrial society. Many a tale here centers on the trails and tribulations of the weary, worked-out mines and miners. Add in some country lullabies, some religiously-oriented songs representing the fundamental Protestant ethic that drove these people and some Saturday dancing and drinking songs and you have a pretty good feel for the range of experience out there in the hills, hollows and ravines of Eastern Kentucky.
Several time over the past year or so I have mentioned, as part of my remembrances of my youth and of my political and familial background, that my father was a coal miner and the son of a coal miner in the hills of Hazard, Kentucky (a town mentioned in a couple of the songs here) in the heart of Appalachia. I have also mentioned that he was a child of the Great Depression and of World War II. He often joked that in a choice between digging the coal and taking his chances in war he much preferred the latter. Thus, it was no accident that when war came he volunteered for the Marines and, as fate would have it, despite a hard, hard life after the war, he never looked back to the mines or the hills. Still this music flowed in his veins, and, I guess, flows in mine.
My Boy Willie
Traditional
Notes: This song has the exact same tunes as the song "The Butcher Boy" and is of a similar theme.
It was early, early in the spring
my boy Willie went to serve the king
And all that vexed him and grieved his mind
was the leaving of his dear girl behind.
Oh father dear build me a boat
that on the ocean I might float
And hail the ships as they pass by
for to inquire of my sailor boy.
She had not sailed long in the deep
when a fine ship's crew she chanced to meet
And of the captain she inquired to
"Does my boy Willie sail on board with you?"
"What sort of a lad is your Willie fair?
What sort of clothes does your Willie wear?"
"He wears a coat of royal blue,
and you'll surely know him for his heart is true".
"If that's your Willie he is not here.
Your Willie's drowned as you did fear.
'Twas at yonder green island as we passed by,
it was there we lost a fine sailor boy".
Go dig my grave long wide and deep,
put a marble stone at my head and feet.
And in the middle, a turtle dove.
So the whole world knows that I died of love.
"The L & N Don't Stop Here Anymore"
When I was a curly headed baby
My daddy sat me down on his knee
He said, "son, go to school and get your letters,
Don't you be a dusty coal miner, boy, like me."
[Chorus:]
I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow
The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door
But now they stand in a rusty row all empty
Because the l & n don't stop here anymore
I used to think my daddy was a black man
With script enough to buy the company store
But now he goes to town with empty pockets
And his face is white as a February snow
[Chorus]
I never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust
I never thought I'd pray to hear that whistle roar
Oh, god, I wish the grass would turn to money
And those green backs would fill my pockets once more
[Chorus]
Last night I dreamed I went down to the office
To get my pay like a had done before
But them ol' kudzu vines were coverin' the door
And there were leaves and grass growin' right up through the floor
[Chorus]
Come All Ye Fair And Tender Ladies
Come all ye fair and tender ladies
Take warning how you court your men
They're like a star on a summer morning
They first appear and then they're gone
They'll tell to you some loving story
And they'll make you think that they love you well
And away they'll go and court some other
And leave you there in grief to dwell
I wish I was on some tall mountain
Where the ivy rocks were black as ink
I'd write a letter to my false true lover
Whose cheeks are like the morning pink
I wish I was a little sparrow
And I had wings to fly so high
I'd fly to the arms of my false true lover
And when he'd ask, I would deny
Oh love is handsome, love is charming
And love is pretty while it's new
But love grows cold as love grows older
And fades away like morning dew
"BLACK IS THE COLOUR"
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands
I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
But some times I whish the day will come
That she and I will be as one
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands
I walk to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times
Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands
Blue Diamond Mines
I remember the ways in the bygone days
when we was all in our prime
When us and John L. we give the old man hell
down in the Blue Diamond Mine
Well the whistle would blow 'for the rooster crow
full two hours before daylight
When a man done his best and earned his good rest
at seven dollars a night
In the mines in the mines
in the Blue Diamond Mines
I worked my life away
In the mines in the mines
In the Blue Diamond Mines
I fall on my knees and pray.
You old black gold you've taken my lung
your dust has darkened my home
And now I am old and you've turned your back
where else can an old miner go
Well it's Algomer Block and Big Leather Woods
now its Blue Diamond too
The bits are all closed get another job
what else can an old miner do?
Now the union is dead and they shake their heads
well mining has had it's day
But they're stripping off my mountain top
and they pay me eight dollars a day
Now you might get a little poke of welfare meal
get a little poke of welfare flour
But I tell you right now your won't qualify
'till you work for a quarter an hour.
*Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-Hard Times In Babylon-Growing Up Working Poor In The 1950s
Click on title to link to my entry Hard Times In Babylon- Growing Up Working Poor In The 1950s
Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Once Again, Hard Times In Babylon- Growing Working Poor"
Click on title to link to my blog entry of Septemeber 27, 2007 reposted here in honor of the struggle in Kentucky coal country entitled Once Again, Hard Times In Babylon
*Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Hard Times In Babylon"
Click on title to link to my entry "Hard Time In Babylon- Growing Up Absurd In The 1950s".
*Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"The Children Of The Coal"-The Music Of Kathy Mattea
Click on title to link to my entry for "Children Of The Coal-The Music Of Kathy Mattea".
*Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Bloody Harlan"
Clip on title to link to my entry for a YouTube film clip of the classic coal country song,"Bloody Harlan".
This commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
This commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
*Labor's Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-At One Remove
Click on title to link to a YouTube film clip of Iris Dement performing Pretty Saro in the film Songcatcher. This song is presented just an example of her singing style as I could not find a film clip of her doing These Hills which, as will be explained below, was the song I was thinking of as background for what I am writing about in today's commentary. (I have placed the lyrics to These Hills below but the written words hardly do justice to her performance and mood of the song.)
As I end, for this year, the over month long series entitled Labor's Untold Story in celebration of our common labor struggles I am in something of a reflective and pensive mood. Well you know that every once in a while that happens even to the most hardened politico, right? I have heard that even President Obama had such a moment about four years ago although it literally was just one moment, sixty-six seconds according to one inside source, an anonymous source because he, or she, is not authorized to give such classified information in the interest of national security, the bourgeoisie’s national security to be exact. Rumor also has it that leading Republican presidential contender, former Massachusetts governor, Mitt Romney, thought about having a pensive moment for a moment and then changed his mind when some Tea Party-ers declared that pensive moments were against god’s will. I, on the other hand, as an intrepid communist propagandist can freely admit to such moments in politics, and as here reflecting on my roots.
What has gotten me into this reflective state is thinking about my father's background of coming from the hard-scrabble hills of Kentucky. That, my friends, means coal country, or it did in his time. The names Hazard, near Harlan County (the next county over to be exact) but, more appropriately "bloody Harlan" have, I hope, echoed across this series as a symbol for the hard life of many generations of workers and hard-scrabble tenant farmers who came out of those hills-some place. Some place in Appalachia, that is.
I have mentioned my father and his trials and tribulations, previously, when I did a series on the evolution of my youthful political trajectory from liberalism to communism. His hard-bitten, no breaks, no luck life was not a direct influence on that evolution, that is for sure. He was a strong anti-communist, if only of the reflexive kind coming out of that so-called “greatest generation” who survived the Great Depression of the 1930s and then, rifle over one shoulder, fought World War II. But something in the genes and in his character left an imprint. Let me sum up his life's experience this way- the tidbit that he imparted to me early on in life I will always remember and is probably why I am still struggling for our communist future to this day.
My father was certainly no stranger to hard times as a youth thrown into the coal mines early (or, as it turned out, in his work travails as an adult). My father, perhaps like yours, was a child of the Great Depression of the 1930's, scratching and clawing his way from pillar to post and entered into his manhood as a Marine in combat in World War II. Hard combat in the Pacific, and as anyone who has studied the period will know, where no quarter was given, or taken. Those two facts are important. Why? As a very young kid I asked him why he became a soldier, excuse me, a Marine. Well, the short answer was this- between the two alternatives, starve or fight, he was glad, no more than glad he was ecstatic, to quickly sign up at the Marine recruiting station in order to get out of the hills of Kentucky. And he, moreover, whatever happened later, never looked back.
That, my friends, is why I entitled part of the headline to today's entry- "at one remove". Those hills are in my blood, no question, no question now as much as I might have resisted such feelings before, but also the notion that those terrible choices had to be made by an honest working-class stiff. And that is why today I am in this mood thinking about how desperately we need to get down that socialist road. Pronto. And why I hear Iris Dement's voice singing of her own longings in These Hills, my father’s hills, as I write this, down deep in my own being.
*****
I have put together and reposted separately all the related entries around this many generational struggle to get away from the "coal"
"These Hills"-Iris Dement
Far away I've traveled,
To stand once more alone.
And hear my memories echo,
Through these hills that I call home.
As a child I roamed this valley.
I watched the seasons come and go.
I spent many hours dreaming,
On these hills that I call home.
The wind is rushing through the valley,
And I don't feel so all alone,
When I see the dandelions blowing,
Across the hills that I call home.
Instrumental Break.
Like the flowers I am fading,
Into my setting sun.
Brother and sister passed before me:
Mama and Daddy, they've long since gone.
The wind is rushing through the valley,
And I don't feel so all alone,
When I see the dandelions blowing,
Across the hills that I call home.
These are the hills that I call home.
As I end, for this year, the over month long series entitled Labor's Untold Story in celebration of our common labor struggles I am in something of a reflective and pensive mood. Well you know that every once in a while that happens even to the most hardened politico, right? I have heard that even President Obama had such a moment about four years ago although it literally was just one moment, sixty-six seconds according to one inside source, an anonymous source because he, or she, is not authorized to give such classified information in the interest of national security, the bourgeoisie’s national security to be exact. Rumor also has it that leading Republican presidential contender, former Massachusetts governor, Mitt Romney, thought about having a pensive moment for a moment and then changed his mind when some Tea Party-ers declared that pensive moments were against god’s will. I, on the other hand, as an intrepid communist propagandist can freely admit to such moments in politics, and as here reflecting on my roots.
What has gotten me into this reflective state is thinking about my father's background of coming from the hard-scrabble hills of Kentucky. That, my friends, means coal country, or it did in his time. The names Hazard, near Harlan County (the next county over to be exact) but, more appropriately "bloody Harlan" have, I hope, echoed across this series as a symbol for the hard life of many generations of workers and hard-scrabble tenant farmers who came out of those hills-some place. Some place in Appalachia, that is.
I have mentioned my father and his trials and tribulations, previously, when I did a series on the evolution of my youthful political trajectory from liberalism to communism. His hard-bitten, no breaks, no luck life was not a direct influence on that evolution, that is for sure. He was a strong anti-communist, if only of the reflexive kind coming out of that so-called “greatest generation” who survived the Great Depression of the 1930s and then, rifle over one shoulder, fought World War II. But something in the genes and in his character left an imprint. Let me sum up his life's experience this way- the tidbit that he imparted to me early on in life I will always remember and is probably why I am still struggling for our communist future to this day.
My father was certainly no stranger to hard times as a youth thrown into the coal mines early (or, as it turned out, in his work travails as an adult). My father, perhaps like yours, was a child of the Great Depression of the 1930's, scratching and clawing his way from pillar to post and entered into his manhood as a Marine in combat in World War II. Hard combat in the Pacific, and as anyone who has studied the period will know, where no quarter was given, or taken. Those two facts are important. Why? As a very young kid I asked him why he became a soldier, excuse me, a Marine. Well, the short answer was this- between the two alternatives, starve or fight, he was glad, no more than glad he was ecstatic, to quickly sign up at the Marine recruiting station in order to get out of the hills of Kentucky. And he, moreover, whatever happened later, never looked back.
That, my friends, is why I entitled part of the headline to today's entry- "at one remove". Those hills are in my blood, no question, no question now as much as I might have resisted such feelings before, but also the notion that those terrible choices had to be made by an honest working-class stiff. And that is why today I am in this mood thinking about how desperately we need to get down that socialist road. Pronto. And why I hear Iris Dement's voice singing of her own longings in These Hills, my father’s hills, as I write this, down deep in my own being.
*****
I have put together and reposted separately all the related entries around this many generational struggle to get away from the "coal"
"These Hills"-Iris Dement
Far away I've traveled,
To stand once more alone.
And hear my memories echo,
Through these hills that I call home.
As a child I roamed this valley.
I watched the seasons come and go.
I spent many hours dreaming,
On these hills that I call home.
The wind is rushing through the valley,
And I don't feel so all alone,
When I see the dandelions blowing,
Across the hills that I call home.
Instrumental Break.
Like the flowers I am fading,
Into my setting sun.
Brother and sister passed before me:
Mama and Daddy, they've long since gone.
The wind is rushing through the valley,
And I don't feel so all alone,
When I see the dandelions blowing,
Across the hills that I call home.
These are the hills that I call home.
*Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Our Lady Of The Mountains-The Music Of Hazel Dickens"
Click on title to link to my entry for mountain music's Hazel Dickens-"Our Lady Of The Mountains"
Monday, September 28, 2009
*That Sweet Old North Carolina Pick- The Music Of Norman And Nancy Blake
Click On To Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Norman And Nancy Blake performing "Jordan Am A Hard Road To Travel".
DVD Review
My Dear Old Southern Home, Norman and Nancy Blake, Shanachie Records, 2003
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake, joined here by Nancy Blake, can call their own.
Norman’s virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. Blake's Appalachia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on some North Carolina down home music and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. A nice addition here is that he is joined by his very talented bluegrass guitarist (and mandolin player) wife Nancy. Although their “stage presence” is weak, to say the least, it is more than made up by the music. This is pure mountain at its best.
Note: If you have to choose between getting this DVD and any one of the Balke CDs. Grab the CDs.
"Greenlight On The Southern"
Standing on the sidetrack at the south end of town
on a hot dry dusty august day the steam pipe pouring down
the fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gears
waiting for the semaphore the fast mail train to clear
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
looking at the waterglass and letting down the sand
rolling out on the old main line taking up the slack
gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be back
oh if I could return
to those boyhood days of mine
and the greenlight on the southern southern railroad line
creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
the section houses gray and white by the yard limit sign
the hoggers call the old high ball no more time to wait
rolling down to birmingham with a 10 car load for freight
the whistle scream with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
the drivers roll on the green and go getting mighty near
handing up the orders to the engine crew on time
it's the Alabama great southern AGS railroad line
DVD Review
My Dear Old Southern Home, Norman and Nancy Blake, Shanachie Records, 2003
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake, joined here by Nancy Blake, can call their own.
Norman’s virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. Blake's Appalachia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on some North Carolina down home music and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. A nice addition here is that he is joined by his very talented bluegrass guitarist (and mandolin player) wife Nancy. Although their “stage presence” is weak, to say the least, it is more than made up by the music. This is pure mountain at its best.
Note: If you have to choose between getting this DVD and any one of the Balke CDs. Grab the CDs.
"Greenlight On The Southern"
Standing on the sidetrack at the south end of town
on a hot dry dusty august day the steam pipe pouring down
the fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gears
waiting for the semaphore the fast mail train to clear
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
looking at the waterglass and letting down the sand
rolling out on the old main line taking up the slack
gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be back
oh if I could return
to those boyhood days of mine
and the greenlight on the southern southern railroad line
creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
the section houses gray and white by the yard limit sign
the hoggers call the old high ball no more time to wait
rolling down to birmingham with a 10 car load for freight
the whistle scream with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
the drivers roll on the green and go getting mighty near
handing up the orders to the engine crew on time
it's the Alabama great southern AGS railroad line
*Appalachia On My Mind- The Mountain Music Of Norman Blake
Click On To Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Norman And Nancy Blake Doing "Jordan Am A Hard Road To Travel".
CD Review
Be Ready Boys, Norman Blake and Rich O'Brien, Shanachie Records, 1999
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake can call his own.
His virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. Blake's Appalachia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on Georgia and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. A nice addition here is that he is joined by famed bluegrass guitarist (and mandolin player) Rich O'Brien. Tops here are an incredible instrumental duo "Mexico", "Going Home" and the sweetly sentimental " A Maiden's Prayer". This is pure mountain at its best.
"Greenlight On The Southern"
Standing on the sidetrack at the south end of town
on a hot dry dusty august day the steam pipe pouring down
the fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gears
waiting for the semaphore the fast mail train to clear
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
looking at the waterglass and letting down the sand
rolling out on the old main line taking up the slack
gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be back
oh if I could return
to those boyhood days of mine
and the greenlight on the southern southern railroad line
creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
the section houses gray and white by the yard limit sign
the hoggers call the old high ball no more time to wait
rolling down to birmingham with a 10 car load for freight
the whistle scream with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
the drivers roll on the green and go getting mighty near
handing up the orders to the engine crew on time
it's the Alabama great southern AGS railroad line
CD Review
Be Ready Boys, Norman Blake and Rich O'Brien, Shanachie Records, 1999
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake can call his own.
His virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. Blake's Appalachia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on Georgia and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. A nice addition here is that he is joined by famed bluegrass guitarist (and mandolin player) Rich O'Brien. Tops here are an incredible instrumental duo "Mexico", "Going Home" and the sweetly sentimental " A Maiden's Prayer". This is pure mountain at its best.
"Greenlight On The Southern"
Standing on the sidetrack at the south end of town
on a hot dry dusty august day the steam pipe pouring down
the fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gears
waiting for the semaphore the fast mail train to clear
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
looking at the waterglass and letting down the sand
rolling out on the old main line taking up the slack
gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be back
oh if I could return
to those boyhood days of mine
and the greenlight on the southern southern railroad line
creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
the section houses gray and white by the yard limit sign
the hoggers call the old high ball no more time to wait
rolling down to birmingham with a 10 car load for freight
the whistle scream with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
the drivers roll on the green and go getting mighty near
handing up the orders to the engine crew on time
it's the Alabama great southern AGS railroad line
*Georgia On My Mind- The Mountain Music Of Norman Blake
Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Norman Blake Doing "Salty".
CD Review
Far Away, Down On A Georgia Farm, Norman Blake, Shanachie Records, 1999
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake can call his own.
His virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. The Georgia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on Georgia and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. Tops here are “Down On The Georgia Farm” and a very funny take on marriage “Give Me Back My Fifteen Cents”.
"Southern Railroad Line"
Standing at the sidetrack at the south end of the town
On a dry hot dusty August day the steam pipe blowing down
The fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gear
Waiting for the fast mail train the semaphore to clear.
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
Looking at the water glass and letting down the sand
Rolling out on the old main line and taking up the slack
Gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be coming back.
Oh if I could return to those boyhood days of mine
And the green light on the southern Southern Railroad Line.
Creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
The section houses gray and white by the yard and limit sign
The hoggers call the old highball no more time to wait
Rolling down to Birmingham with a ten car load of freight.
The whistle screamed with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
The drivers roll on the green go getting mighty near
Handing out the orders to the engine crew on time
It's the Alabama Great Southern AGS Railroad Line.
(Chorus)
CD Review
Far Away, Down On A Georgia Farm, Norman Blake, Shanachie Records, 1999
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake can call his own.
His virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. The Georgia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on Georgia and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. Tops here are “Down On The Georgia Farm” and a very funny take on marriage “Give Me Back My Fifteen Cents”.
"Southern Railroad Line"
Standing at the sidetrack at the south end of the town
On a dry hot dusty August day the steam pipe blowing down
The fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gear
Waiting for the fast mail train the semaphore to clear.
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
Looking at the water glass and letting down the sand
Rolling out on the old main line and taking up the slack
Gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be coming back.
Oh if I could return to those boyhood days of mine
And the green light on the southern Southern Railroad Line.
Creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
The section houses gray and white by the yard and limit sign
The hoggers call the old highball no more time to wait
Rolling down to Birmingham with a ten car load of freight.
The whistle screamed with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
The drivers roll on the green go getting mighty near
Handing out the orders to the engine crew on time
It's the Alabama Great Southern AGS Railroad Line.
(Chorus)
Sunday, September 27, 2009
*Fight For The Communist Program -Free, Quality Health Care For All- A Guest Commentary
Click on title to link to a "Workers Vanguard", September 25, 2009, article in favor of socialized medicine, free, quality health care for all. How about that for real single payer health insurance? Also included in a 1991 article on the same subject from the pages of "Women and Revolution, in 1991 around the time of the last "great debate" on health care. Most of the article reads, unfortunately, like it was written today.
*Labor's Untold Story-The Real "Mother" Jones-Labor MIlitant
Click on title to link to Wikipedia's entry for Mother Jones.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
*Labor's Untold Story-The Class Wars In The Mines Of Colorado-Cripple Creek 1892
Click on title to link to Wikipedia's entry for the Cripple Creek strike of 1982-this was class war, rare and ugly, down at the base.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
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