Enough Shit- A Not Completely Serious Post (R-rated)

I have been having fun watching all the TV news people and pundits having fun with Donald Trump's latest pronouncement denied by some, insisted upon as truth by others. They have been having a field day, regardless of their ideology or political leaning with the word itself.

Warning, here it comes.

Shithole.

My fun is in how it takes me back 50 years to when I was a college station DJ and newscaster. That was around 1966-70 to be exact. George Carlin hadn't gotten WBAI into trouble with his words you can never say on TV which came out in 1972. In case you don't remember, the first word on the list was, yep, shit.

Anyway, back in those days such words and milder were not allowed on TV or radio under any circumstance.Then, in the late summer of 1968, probably around the time of that infamous Democratic Convention in Chicago, the pop group Spanky and Our Gang came out with a song titled "Give a Damn." It's chorus went:

And it might begin to teach you
How to give a damn about your fellow man
And it might begin to teach you
How to give a damn about your fellow man

Here's how Wikipedia tells what happened:

In spite of not receiving airplay in several markets because of the curse word in its title, as well as its use of the sound of an African American man from the ghetto saying something that was not understood, ending in his laughter before the song's fade – and because it was a comment on racial equality that became the theme song for the New York Urban Coalition – the song became a regional hit where released and overall made No. 43. The band also performed the song live on an episode of The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, resulting in CBS' Standards and Practices division receiving numerous complaints about the song's title being used during "family viewing hours". One such complaint reportedly came from President Richard Nixon. "Give a Damn" would become John Lindsay's campaign song during his successful run for mayor of New York.

But we sure had fun playing it and, mostly saying the word damn on radio.

The following spring The Beatles released a song that got a similar treatment. "The Ballad of John and Yoko" had the following chorus:

Christ you know it ain't easy
You know how hard it can be
The way things are going
They're going to crucify me

Needless to say, when we were allowed to play it, we loved the rebelliousness of the song. WLS in Chicago and WABC in New York, two of the BIG radio stations never played it. I know I wasn't supposed to play it on the station back home I worked at that summer.

Those days are long gone, of course. Lots of words a great deal worse than those are now found on regular TV from time to time, especially later at night, although lots of bleeping is still heard on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.

Which is why this (get ready for it) shitstorm over shithole is so much fun to watch. (Yes, I'm having fun writing this. There's still a little of that young rebel in here somewhere.) I haven't sat and paid close attention to the networks and news channels to know who is doing what with the word, who's bleeping, or censoring and who has actually used the word. I am sure there was a lot of backroom and production office discussion about how to handle it. But I am also fairly certain that apart from the political leanings of the newscaster or pundit, they are enjoying just being able to talk about shit like this, even if they can't or don't explicitly use the word.

Some of you have probably seen the cable TV interview program, Inside the Actors Studio. One of the ten regular questions that host James Lipton asks every guest is "What is your favorite curse word?" You might have guessed with this post what mine is. When shit happens, I usually say "Shit!"

But let me take a twist in this post. As much fun as I have had with watching all this shit on TV about a word used by the President, I am sick of this shit.

It is not about the word!
It is not that it is fun and perhaps even titillating to viewers.
It is not that the President of the United States knows how to swear. (Remember Richard Nixon's [expletive deleted] from the Oval Office transcripts? And LBJ I am sure had a bigger potty mouth than Trump ever will!)

It is about the attitude and the seeming racism that underlies it. It is about civility and compassion for people who are not as fortunate as we are. It is about the way the amazing and caring policies of the United States are being slowly eaten away. I have been challenged by a friend to name these policies that I have come to dislike and which raises a great deal of fear in me and many like me. Not that the President has a potty mouth. I don't give a shit that he does. I do care that he is doing things which many believe will undermine the future of this great country. I will be working on that post over the next days and hopefully posting it by next week.

Until then- to the news media and all the rest of us- let's stop this shit over a word. Let's stop using it as a sign of something it isn't and get to the real issues the incident has raised- one new one among many. Yes, I am guilty of using it to get my shit out on the table. But it is far deeper and far more dangerous than a simple word we can't ever say on TV.

I'll be back with more thoughts by next week.

Words Don't Do Enough Today

When will we ever move beyond the racial issue? When will we realize that we need each other and our rich diversity to truly be the great people we like to think we are? One of the marks of what makes the United States so unique in our life is the great experiment that allows for ethnic diversity as a mark of being a citizen of the United States. It started when British and Germans and French started living side by side and began to break down barriers that separated them in Europe. Here- they were all Americans!

Then we struggled, of course. As each new wave of immigrants moved into the country they faced discrimination, prejudice, and variations of racism. Italians and Jews, Greeks and Irish were not considered part of the "white" culture, though all were as European as the British, French, and Germans. Roman Catholics were stereotyped as recently as the 1960s and their loyalty questioned because of their religion. We never faced the genocide we carried out against the native populations and kept kicking the can of slavery and racism down the road. But we did continue to evolve as a nation.

Asian immigrants joined Latinos (who had been here before some of the other immigrant groups) as the "color" of our national identity began to change. The richness of many colors and cultures added food and song, dress and language to our national psyche. So much has been assimilated, adopted, and cherished. More came from different religions, nations, and cultures. That wonderful bright beacon of freedom continued to shine, even if we periodically tarnished it or covered it up in fear. People kept wanting to come here because of who we say we are and what we have managed to accomplish. These are things that would never have been accomplished if we hadn't opened up our shores to the many immigrant groups, all of who have added new and exciting dimensions to our national character!

But there were those who disagreed and still do. The Jews and Italians would never be truly American to them. The Germans faced it again in the era of World War I. World War II saw citizens rounded up and put in detention centers because they were of Japanese descent. Even first generation American born individuals seem to want to disagree with the very openness that allowed their parents to come here in the first place. Through some incredible twisting of logic, citizenship- being a true American- is to them based on some ancestry that is not American. What crazy logic insists that someone whose family has been here for 75 years is more American than someone whose family came 175 years ago or even before the American Revolution?

Friends, that is insanity! It is also not part of the American spirit. It is not how we developed and grew into the nation we are.

And now I watch self-proclaimed "patriotic" [sic] individuals marching around Virginia waving the flag of the discredited and widely defeated enemy ideology of the Nazis!

That is where words come to a crashing halt. Emotions, deep emotions, come crashing in. Instead I have an image of my father standing somewhere in Germany or Austria at the end of World War II. As part of the victorious Allies he stands at the tail of a Nazi plane. That swastika over his shoulder is not a sign of white power. It is the sign of a defeated ideology of white supremacy- actually even more narrow than that- a specific type of white supremacy. One of the reasons the Nazis lost was specifically because of their hate-filled, racist, "Aryan"-based rhetoric. It was their inability to move beyond it in any way shape of form that led to their rerouting supplies and trains and personnel to make way for the trains taking non-Aryans to the death camps!

Dad and his fellow soldiers look satisfied. They have won. And they were about to do one of the most incredible actions by a winner in a war- they would help rebuild even those nations they had fought against! That is the American way! Not racism, revenge, and hate. The words of war had always been- "To the victor belong the spoils." We said, "No!" We didn't enter the war to gain territory, to overrun others, to take away their humanity. To us the spoils of World War II were a safer world for people to live in democratic ways!

And now, nearly 75 years later there are people waving that flag of hate and fear as if it was an American symbol.

Bullshit!

Over the past few weeks my daughter has been challenging me to be the person I have always been when it comes to this issue. Racism, based in slavery that we were unable and unwilling to truly work against in all segments of our society, remains our American Original Sin. I have been living with it, fighting it, speaking against it for most of my life. It was part of who I was in 1960 and 1963. It grew deeper as the 60s continued and I discovered my own elements of racism, bred into me by our culture. The work against racism is a deep part of who I am and what I believe.

• White people flying Nazi flags will not make America great again. It will only defeat us as it did the Nazis in World War II.
• Trying to ignore my own benefits of being white (and male!) in the midst of white supremacy makes me complicit.
• Making excuses for silence will always lead to more silence- and my being as much a part of the problem as the alt-right Nazis in Virginia.

I could rant on. And I probably will again. But for today I make my statements as another declaration of my hopes for a better way of celebrating who we are and can be as patriotic citizens of the United States. I will not allow bigots, racists, and hate-filled Nazis to destroy my country- the one my Dad and his generation helped make great!

Dylan- My First Ten

Well, Dylan has sure been keeping everyone in suspense. As of this writing no one has heard from him and he isn't answering the phone. Is he just being "Dylan" or what? (Yes, there are those who have refused the prize, or have been forced to  by their country- the Soviet Union.) I hope that isn't what Dylan is up to.

Anyway, I said I was going to post about some of my favorites. Instead of ordering them, an impossible task, I am going to list mine chronologically. (I will do the three iconic, forever great songs in a separate post.)

So here are the ten in that first decade of greatness.
(All lyrics, Bob Dylan)

Protest- As a folk-singer in the early 60s, Dylan would naturally have been seen as a protest singer. That's what the Greenwich Village scene would have been all about. But Dylan was not one to do it as blatantly- or unambiguously as some. You were often uncertain what he was getting at, thanks to incredibly well-written verses. These three from that era spoke volumes, even when he would deny or be non-committal about meanings.
1. A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall (1963)

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

2. Masters of War (1963)

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

3. Chimes of Freedom (1964)

Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

Musical Revolution- Yes, everyone points to the Newport Folk Festival and Dylan "going electric." But it sure didn't change his writing style any. In fact, the electric sound only enhanced the words.These five are truly my top favorites among all Dylan's songs. They are fun, they have depth, they can be inscrutable. But they are Dylan at his poetic best. He took the poetry and made it rock- and sing- and go into all kinds of unusual places. The protest songs had poetry and power. These are just immortal.
4. Highway 61 Revisited (1965)

Now the rovin’ gambler he was very bored
He was tryin’ to create a next world war
He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor
He said I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes I think it can be very easily done
We’ll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61 

5. Subterranean Homesick Blues (1965)

Maggie comes fleet foot
Face full of black soot
Talkin’ that the heat put
Plants in the bed but
The phone’s tapped anyway
Maggie says that many say
They must bust in early May
Orders from the D.A.
Look out kid
Don’t matter what you did
Walk on your tiptoes
Don’t try “No-Doz”
Better stay away from those
That carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don’t need a weatherman
To know which way the wind blows

6. Mr. Tambourine Man (1965)

Though you might hear laughin’, spinnin’, swingin’ madly across the sun
It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escapin’ on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin’
And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn’t pay it any mind
It’s just a shadow you’re seein’ that he’s chasing

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you

7. Maggie’s Farm (1965)

I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
No, I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am
But everybody wants you
To be just like them
They sing while you slave and I just get bored
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more

 8. Rainy Day Women #12 and 35 (1966)

They’ll stone ya when you’re at the breakfast table
They’ll stone ya when you are young and able
They’ll stone ya when you’re tryin’ to make a buck
They’ll stone ya and then they’ll say, “good luck”
Tell ya what, I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get stoned

New Depth- Here was a whole new Dylan- again. Motorcyle accident, Nashville singing, reacing middle age. The poetry was no less profound, and he was still speaking for himself. No, he was not the poet for a generation. He spoke from his life and his views. The fact that we could go with him was a bonus. These two of that first decade spoke to a longing we didn't even know we had.
9. All Along the Watchtower (1968)

“There must be some way out of here,” said the joker to the thief
“There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth”

“No reason to get excited,” the thief, he kindly spoke
“There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late”

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too

10. I Shall Be Released (1971)

They say ev’ry man needs protection
They say ev’ry man must fall
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Some place so high above this wall
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released

Let's end with an iconic music video. A classic of a fun song. Yes, it is the song that gave the "Weathermen" radical group its name. It is fun, it makes you smile.

It's Dylan.

If Then Were Now (or Vice Versa?)

Muhammad Ali's death on Friday started me thinking and reminiscing. I remember the highlights and controversies of his career and life in the 60s. Starting out as Cassius Clay he became more radicalized as those 60s became more contentious. He became part of the Nation of Islam, changed his name, refused to be drafted, and had his championship revoked.

He was not as widely loved as it would seem from the eulogies these past couple of days. In fact, he was downright reviled in many quarters. His patriotism and commitment to the country were questioned. The sports biography/documentary, The Trials of Muhammad Ali, covered the legal battle to overturn his conviction for refusing to serve in the Vietnam War.

Watching the new reports and honors placed on him since he died made me think about how time changes things.

"A powerful, dangerous political force" the (LA Times) said in an editorial.

Yes. He challenged a racially-based political system. He turned away from the fame to stand for a point of justice. "Boxing is nothing," he said, "just satisfying to some bloodthirsty people. I’m no longer a Cassius Clay, a Negro from Kentucky. I belong to the world, the black world. This is more than money.”

A dangerous challenge, but done with a sense of peace about himself and about what he was working for. A boxer, known for fighting with his hands, calling for peace between people. A remarkable stand.

I haven't (yet) seen any posting or note denigrating Ali since he died. Oh, I am sure it's out there somewhere. Someone has or will write about his un-American stands, his turning to Islam, or whatever that will want to knock him out of the heights he rose to. If the events of his life from the 60s were happening today he would probably be more hated than he was then. Just being a Muslim would be enough to set outside the centers of American culture.

I hope there is a lesson in this for those who would point fingers, racially or religiously profile individuals, or strike out with prejudice toward those who may stand differently. Muhammad Ali was a political pioneer. He stood up and did what he felt he had to do. Don't let the fine eulogies hide his positively dangerous and revolutionary witness and life.

Thanks for your willingness and stand.

Rest in peace!

A Video for August and a 50-Year Memory

It's not Wolf Hall. It's Herman's Hermits from the summer of 1965. Fifty years ago this was just a song for the fun of it. We all liked yelling "Hen-er-y" and "Second verse, same as the first!"

Isn't that what summer is for? Fun?

The Last Miles

One more post from my recent reading and experience of Miles Davis. It was part of what molded him into the kind of artist he was- and what earned him some of the disdain of others who found him aloof and not willing to engage.

It is the issue of racism- and, as recent months have seen, it is an issue that is still very much with us.

Davis had a deep and abiding anger at the American racist foundations. He speaks of returning from Europe in the 1950s and 60s where he was accepted on a different level- as a human being. He speaks of the way white musicians took what the black musicians developed and earned more money doing the same type of thing.

He did not begrudge the great white Birth of the Cool, Kind of Blue and Sketches of Spain, among others. But he always was aware of the racial divide in the country.
jazz musicians, composers, etc. He welcomed them into his groups, even when black colleagues didn't like him to do that. His ongoing work with composer Gil Evans, for example, produced

He recalls the time when he was arrested outside the NYC club where he was headlining because he reacted to the white policeman who didn't think a black man should be hanging around there. He knows he was often treated as less than the whites even though he grew up in an upper-middle class life in East St. Louis, IL, the son of a successful dentist. He refused to "perform" on stage in ways that would reinforce the old stereotypes of the black musicians. He had great love for Louis Armstrong and Dizzy Gillespie, but regularly took them to task for their racially stereotypical grinning. It is hard to find official pictures of him that show him smiling. He refused to give white America that satisfaction.

In many ways he refused to be anything but Miles Davis, as he understood himself. His continued openness to white musicians throughout his career was as much a part of that as his unwillingness to be a sideshow clown or black version of the black-faced expectation of many whites. He paid little attention to most white critics who he felt were judging his (and most black jazz music) on white standards that were irrelevant.

Remember- he lived the 50s and 60s and all the preceded them. His racism-radar was finely tuned. He put up with no BS, especially when racially based.

Let's be willing to admit that some of this was Miles' personality. It was what made him who he was, and what made his music so exciting, innovative and never the same from year to year. He did not suffer fools- nor was he willing to wait for what he saw he should be doing. The jazz world - and all of us even these many years later - continue to reap the benefits.

In this ongoing time of renewed racial tensions, challenges and counter-challenges in the United States, reading Miles' words reminded me that no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to get inside the feelings of racism from the black person's experience. I blend in; I am white; I don't know that pain that has been deeply planted in the souls of those who have been slaves. I believe there is such a thing as "racial" or "ethnic" memory. We know much more about genetics today and we believe that the experiences of our ancestors makes "epigenetic" changes in genetic coding that can be passed on to future generations. While I have always been a strong advocate for civil rights, reading Miles' thoughts and hearing his anger from 50-60 years ago, opened new awareness and reflection.

While it may not be at the level it was in the 50s and 60s, we still face it, we still must be on guard for the subtle and not so subtle ways that racism plays out in our national American psyche. None of us is immune to it. Perhaps Miles Davis can also have something to teach us about our racial relationships that may be even more profound and important than his music.

That would be quite an accomplishment.

# 6,000- In Memory of Another Pilgrim

Normally I would simply note the passing of post # 6,000 in the history of this blog which started over 12 years ago. But in the last couple weeks a fellow-pilgrim, friend, and very special person came to the end of his pilgrimage.

So I dedicate this post, number 6,000 of pilgrim wanderings for my friend, Ron, a true and dedicated pilgrim throughout his life.

We met about 45 years ago in the midst of our shared objections to the Vietnam War and our desire to help those who wanted peace. We spent the next years in our common interests. He and his wife gave me a place to learn a bit about what it means to mature and become yourself. He was almost exactly 10 years older than I was and became a role model and older brother.

We shared a common desire to grow and wrestle with our Christianity and what it means in these days to be a Christ-follower. We knew that this included standing up for what is right, caring for those who were the least and the lost, asking hard questions of ourselves, the government, and the churches. We learned and challenged each other to keep the faith and trust in the God who is the Creator.

His living room sanctuary was where I came to know another pilgrim who was soon to become my wife. We all worked together for peace as being something more than anti-war. It was a way of being and accepting, even in our human imperfections, the ways of God as the way of life.

He is also the impetus that got me into the Moravian Church and on the path that I have followed for these past 40+ years. God puts the right people in the right place at the right time. I was a young college graduate who had no idea what it meant to find his way in the world. He was present at the creation of what I have become and with his wife and mine helped me discover me.

It seems like a cliche to say that he was one of those people who is the "salt of the earth." Yet, in all the ways Jesus meant that phrase, that describes Ron. He was a "blue-collar" person who was able to relate to people on a deep and intuitive level, regardless of their place or standing. This included the gay co-worker (in 1971!), the kids at the local youth center that I directed for the city, returning Vietnam veterans- or this seminarian trying to be real.

It is appropriate that he died on July 4th. He was patriotic, again in the very best sense of the word. He wanted this country to live up to its ideals in the midst of a time when those principles were being torn to shreds, we felt, by the government itself. It will also be easy for me to remember his "Saint's Day", the day his pilgrimage found its answers and the reunion with his wife and others who have gone before us.

Rest in Peace, my dear friend. Thanks!!

An old American folk song made famous by Dave van Ronk, Bob Dylan and others speaks of my feelings these past months since I learned of his terminal situation. While it isn't about Ron, it is about all those friends who walk into our lives and will not leave us unchanged.

A Video for July and a 50-Year Memory

The summer before my senior year. 1965. Exploding onto the scene, this song took over the month of July- number one for virutally the whole month. It IS one of the great rock and roll songs. Looking at it today, I don't remember Jagger being that young- but did he know how to play to the camera. The power exudes even in the old black and white. No wonder our parents were afraid.

50 years later, it's still very real and still an almost perfect summer song!

Seen in Passing

Stopped at a gas/convenience store on our travels. I was standing at the register to pay and I saw a name from the 60s with the well-known corporate logo. It was the brand name "Zig Zag", famous for rolling papers to well, roll your own cigarettes. I knew they were still around, of course. But this particular sight surprised me. The logo and name was not on rolling papers.

Captain Zig-Zag was on liquid for e-cigarettes!

I remember hearing that some corporations have been ready to capitalize on legalizing marijuana for years. I don't know whether that is true or not, but at least this company jumped right in with a familiar name and logo when things began to change.

In Memoriam: Fr. Malcolm Boyd

Fr. Malcolm Boyd
1923 - 2015

An Episcopal priest of deep faith and just as deep social commitment. In 1965 his simple yet moving book of prayers, Are You Running With Me, Jesus? was radical and certainly outside the box of traditional Christian spirituality. His publisher, when issuing a 40th anniversary edition said:

In the middle of the turbulent 1960s Malcolm Boyd's Are You Running With Me, Jesus? appeared on the scene and broke the mold from which devotional texts had previously been made. Boyd's prayers engaged traditional Christian themes with a decidedly contemporary voice honest, direct, insightful while at the same time taking on issues of everyday concern: personal freedom, racial justice, sexuality. Billed by its original publisher as a collection of prayers for all of us today who are finding it harder and harder to pray, this landmark book has influenced generations of Christians and seekers.

On his web site he is noted as:

• Bestseller author
• Gay Elder
• Episcopal Priest for 57 Years
• Civil Rights and Antiwar Activist; a “Freedom Rider” in 196l

In 1998 as he was entering the "golden years" at age 75, he did not rail against the night or urge people to fight against it. He wrote a book called Go Gentle Into That Good Night." In short, from one era to another he was calling people to pay attention to their world, their lives, and Jesus. An amazing man who has left quite a legacy.

Here are some quotes from Malcolm Boyd.

• By my definition, prayer is consciously hanging out with God. Being with God in a deliberate way.
• Entrenched scriptural literalism is, in my opinion, completely out of touch with reality.
• I find Jesus my confidant and companion, brother and savior; our relationship is intimate, vulnerable, demanding yet comfortable and reassuring.

Here's the title prayer of the book that changed many people's prayers:

It’s morning, Jesus.
 It's
 morning, 
and
 here's 
that
 light 
and 
sound
 all 
over 
again.


Where
 am
 I
 running?

You 
know 
these
 things
 I
 can't
 understand.
 It's 
not
 that 
I
 need 
to
 have
 you
 tell 
me.


What
 counts 
most 
is
 just
 that
 somebody
 knows,
 and
 it's
 you.
 That
 helps
 a
lot.


So
 I'll
 follow
 along,
 okay?
 But
 lead,
 Lord.
 Now
 I've
 got 
to
 run.


Are 
you
 running
 with 
me,
 Jesus?

And finally, from the same book:

PRAYER
 OF
 REPENTANCE

God:

Take
 fire
 and 
burn 
away
 our guilt
 and
 our
 lying
 hypocrisies.


Take 
water 
and
 wash
 away
 our
 brothers' 
blood
 which
 we
 have
 caused
 to
 be
 shed.


Take 
hot 
sunlight
 and
 dry
 the
 tears 
of
 those
 we
 have 
hurt,
 and
 heal
 their
 wounded
 souls, 
minds,
 and
 bodies.


Take
 love
 and
 root 
it
 in 
our
 hearts,
 so
 that 
brotherhood 
may
 grow, 
transforming
 the
 dry 
desert of
 our 
prejudices
 and
 hatreds.

Amen

Rest in peace, Brother Malcolm. Rest in peace.

A 50-Year Memory: The Death of Malcolm X

May 19, 1925 - February 21, 1965

He had quite a journey and was reaching some important new insights at his assassination. Perhaps that is why he died; perhaps not. He was a person of growth, never willing to stay where he was.

A 50-Year Memory: An Iconic Day

Fifty-years ago today, Dylan recorded one of his fun and classic songs- Subterranean Homesick Blues." It was became famous for two reasons. First, the last line of the second verse was the founding name of a radical group:

You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

And second, the video of the song from a documentary became a template for future videos. Here, first, is the video with a talkover by director D. J. Pennebaker and Bob Neuwirth.

But we can't let it just go without hearing the whole thing without extraneous commentary.

Thanks, Bob, for this amazing song.

Bob Dylan - Subterranean Homesick Blues - HQ
from Noisefield on Vimeo.

In Memoriam: Joe Cocker

With the Christmas postings last week, I didn't get to post the memoriam for Joe Cocker. No one sang like Joe, his rasping voice, body movements, facial expressions all combined to make him one of a kind. He gave us some great rock and roll and blues. While the Beatles' With a Little Help From My Friends is his best known- and maybe best- individual song, his whole body of works is worth listening to. Here are two from 1970, The Letter and Delta Lady:

And, just to remember that he didn't lose it, here is With a Little Help from a live performance in 2002 when he was almost 60!

One Great Ball of Fire

I have just finished one of the more interesting, intriguing, disturbing, and enchanting books I've read this year. It is the biography of the rock and roll pioneer and early superstar, Jerry Lee Lewis. Written by Rick Bragg as Jerry Lee's story and his assistance it gets the deep into the grit and dirt of Louisiana, the raw power of the blues, the infectious sound of rockabilly and the amazing intertwining of early rock with country, Gospel, and religion. He may be, as one of his albums called him, the Last Man Standing of the class of the mid-50s that produced what arguably may still be some of the most energetic and power-infused music in American history.

I didn't know a great deal of Jerry Lee's story, although I knew some of the significant details. He grew up with two other famous cousins, Mickey Gilley and Jimmie Lee Swaggart. The interactions of music in Jerry Lee's life with the Pentecostal church faith that infused the land and the air of his family and community produced something far beyond even Elvis' revolution. And like Elvis his own demons sent him on a roller coaster of success and tragedy, hope and loss.

Bragg does a magnificent job of telling the story with honesty and respect for the humanity of Jerry Lee. He always allows Jerry Lee to have the say and express his thoughts. But he does not sugar coat the excesses and out of the mainstream events. He gives Jerry Lee the right to minimize his addictions, to blame it on others and to say he really didn't drink all that much. But Bragg makes sure we know that Jerry Lee has a way of telling his own story in his favor. (Don't we all!) He doesn't excuse the incredibly active sexuality or his numerous marriages or his marrying his 13-year old third cousin. It is almost as if Bragg is saying "That's the way Jerry Lee is. That's what made him the star and huge fireball he became. If it weren't for these we wouldn't be talking about Jerry Lee at all."

Bragg captures it all so very well that all I could hear in the words was that deep southern accent rolling off the pages along with the dust and dirt. He can describe the culture in such clear imagery that you know what it might have felt like in that church or roadhouse. The intensity of Jerry Lee's music came from every pore of his being and every preacher he ever heard calling him to renounce the demons he knew so intimately.

This is a remarkable book that gives an insight into the early days of rock and roll with the rockabilly sound, the country connections, Sun Records and Sam Phillips in Memphis, Elvis, Carl Perkins and Johnny Cash. It is an amazing read.

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Having said all that, it has also made me go digging around You Tube for songs and sides of Jerry Lee that I never knew as I moved on in rock and roll in the 60s and 70s and kind of ignored everything but Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On and Great Balls of Fire. No matter what Jerry did- and he did everything from roots music and blues and country to show tunes- was infused with the same raw sexuality, deep passion, and intense spirit- although one could easily argue which spirit was in control.

It was Steve Allen who actually gave Jerry Lee his biggest break when no one wanted anything to do with his amazingly sexualized music and performances. Steve was willing to give it a try because he had nothing to lose- he was on opposite Ed Sullivan! So Jerry Lee got booked on the show. He was always a difficult person to control so, as he got bored, he left the studo and returned but a few moments before he was to perform.

While Steve was trying to cover and get ready, the musicians were setting up drums and getting ready. Here, is a video of that show as the intensity overflows as only a 21-year old like Jerry Lee could do. This is an extended version that includes the sounds offstage and the commercial break preceding the performance. They actually had very little time left when Jerry came on.

One part of Jerry's act was to stand up and kick the chair away. Allen had been told by Milton Berle offstage that it would happen and that Steve should just throw it back on camera. He did just that. Watch for the piano chair to come back (about 4:14) after he kicks it away. Steve Allen got into the act and pushed it back.

Here's two of his next hits on two of his early appearances on Dick Clark's American Bandstand. No one did their performances live on Bandstand. Jerry Lee insisted on it. They hung a lavalier around his neck and off he went. To say he was serious about his music is an understatement as these videos show.

Raw. Power. Sexuality.

Confession: Rockabilly still moves me. I can't keep still.

It added an edge to gospel, touching depths that are dangerous and dark even amidst the light of Gospel itself. Here are two of Jerry Lee's gospel performances from the 1980s. Lewis is now in his late 40s!

I am amazed that he can make "In the Garden" into a song of intense passion and even sexuality. The piano break around 1:40 sends chills through me. It is as real as it can get.

He was never fake. He was always Jerry Lee Lewis, which is why he got into so much trouble.

He was always fighting the demons within and without. Watch his face on this next video. It is clear that Jerry Lee never surrenders! He never doubted that he was the King- the real King of Rock and Roll. Watching these videos may very well prove it. Elvis became a self-parody of himself as he crawled into his own persona and died. Jerry Lee's persona was always real- even when it nearly killed him.



One more video, this one from October on the Letterman show. He's almost 80 now but he still won't give up the spotlight to Dave, Paul, or anyone else.



None of this excuses any behaviors, excesses, illegal actions, etc. He was as trapped in his own story as anyone could be. He was never able to break out. But he gave the world amazing music.

For Fun- and Memories

This is, of course, a song from a very long time ago-- 1972, to be exact. Surfing around on You Tube the other evening I came across this video for the song. I don't remember seeing this video before (remember- I'm from a long time ago, too). Any way, even though we know that the song is an endless quoting of references to other songs in the 1959-1970 era, I like the way this video interprets it visually. Enjoy.

The "day the music died" is, of course, Feb.3, 1959, when Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper were killed in Iowa in a plane crash. Here is a video that explains the verbal imagery of this classic song.

Keep the Music Going

One of those fun groups of the 60s was the Association. I saw them in college (and interviewed on of them). Here they are from the Smothers Brothers show. A little of their "humor" to start things off.

And while we are on the Smothers Brothers, here's Mason Williams with his classic:

And finally, before it was the Glen Campbell show's theme, here's Campbell and the amazingly wonderful John Hartford, Gentle on My Mind.

And if you have some more time to waste use for some good music, here is John Hartford years later as he was getting ill, doing a remarkable bluegrass version of Gentle. No comparison, though both are good, this is outstanding.

Remembering Pete - Part 4

Needless to say Pete's strong social conscience led him into some difficult spots politically. But he never backed down!

Controversies

 We live in a country where we have the right to be wrong. That's the essence of the Freedom of Speech to Pete. In the midst of the anti-communist witch-hunts of the 1950s Pete, who had been a member of the Communist Party, was called to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC).

He refused to answer the questions or give any information. Unlike others in similar situations, though, he did not use his 5th Amendment right to not self-incriminate. Instead, since he was sure he did nothing wrong- and therefore there was nothing to incriminate himself on- he took the First Amendment instead.

Freedom of Speech is the freedom not to speak as well.

He was held in contempt of Congress, a charge that was later overturned by the courts. But the damage was done. Pete was blacklisted. There was no work for him on network TV. The Weavers did continue to perform- but Pete felt he needed to leave the group when they were hired to do a cigarette commercial.

Vietnam and the Smothers Brothers

He finally got his chance with the Smothers Brothers. The comedy/variety show was given permission to have Pete as a guest in September 1967. But Vietnam was in the news and Pete had written this song about that war. He sang it on the show. When the show was aired, the song wasn't there.

The Smothers fought CBS and eventually won. The whole song was sung on another show in February 1968. I remember that evening. Many of us were gathered around a TV somewhere on campus. (I am not sure where on campus I was. I tended to roam) I do remember the electricity in the room as Pete stood there proud and sincere and sang about being "Waist deep in the big muddy as the big fool said to push on."

Don't forget that this was an era when you shouldn't trust anyone over 30. So the whole incident, with Pete as an elder statesman kind of folk hero even at the (then) seemingly over-the-hill age of 48, brought to light the depth of the political divide over the war. That year, 1968, would be the year of a radical shift in the country with King and Kennedy's deaths, Chicago's Democratic Convention and LBJ not running for president again. There was Pete!

Pete's voice was never polished or particularly smooth, as that clip shows. It didn't need to be. He wanted to get people involved. No sitting with a neutral position at his shows.

Salvador Allende and Chile

The September 11, 1973 military coup in Chile that ousted (and killed) the freely elected Marxist leader, Salvador Allende, became a flashpoint for many in Pete's world. Pete being among them. Pete had often been more than mildly interested in the sad history of American interference in Latin America. Chile and the stories heard of the horrors there in the coup only made him more incensed.

One of the martyrs who became well known in the world after the coup was Chilean poet Victor Jara. Pete's friend, Arlo Guthrie would write a song about Victor. Pete took one of Jara's poems and turned it into a song in Victor's honor. The terror of those days must not be forgotten, thought Pete. He made sure it wasn't.

Over the past week I have heard Pete's version of Jara's poem, Estadio Chile, a number of times on the Pete Seeger sidestream on Folk Alley. Like so much of Pete's work, the intensity and conviction is ever present.

One of the haunting lines in the original Spanish:

Canto qué mal me sales cuando tengo que cantar espanto!

Pete sings it:

O you song, you come out so badly when I must sing — the terror!

It could also be translated as

"O song, how hard it is to sing when I must sing of horror."

Pete never backed away from that. He knew that the power of song could change the world- or at least not let the pain and injustice go unheard.

But Pete was no ideologue. He saw himself as an American and a patriot. He firmly believed in the principles on which this nation was built. He insisted that we not lose them. He did not fight for a political revolution, but something far deeper and more lasting than that. Perhaps one could call it the ongoing strengthening of the American revolution, bringing to light any injustice still be done- and calling us to our better nature. He wanted the truth to be known and honesty to be real.

And he was always ready to be wrong. Just give him the chance to do so and not shut him up.

“I still call myself a communist,” Seeger told The New York Times 20 years ago, “because communism is no more what Russia made of it than Christianity is what the churches make of it. But if by some freak of history communism had caught up with this country, I would have been one of the first people thrown in jail. As my father used to say: ‘The truth is a rabbit in a bramble patch. All you can do is circle around and say it’s somewhere in there.’ ”
-quoted at blood,dirt,and angels

What Stamina

They range in age from 64 to 72.

They have been a significant part of the soundtrack for the last half century!

They still move around that stage like they did 50 years ago.

I'm talking about the Rolling Stones whose concert I am watching on Showtime right now.

It's Just a Shout Away to Jumping Jack Flash, they haven't lost a bit of what made makes them great. They managed to survive what most people thought would kill them. They still look the part of the "bad boys of rock and roll." I don't think it's nostalgia that drives it. No more than in jazz people of all ages flock to see the great masters who are still around as much as the newer generation. In bluegrass Ralph Stanley draws as big a crowd as ever- maybe bigger. With Rock and Roll we weren't supposed to still be enjoying that music today. It was for the rebellious young.

(Wow- Keith Richards can really smile!)

Or maybe it's just damn great music for all generations.

Even if Sympathy for the Devil has come a very long way from Altamont, it's raw power is still there with a different underlying beat that pushes the song forward with a force no one else can bring.

At the same time I am caused to reflect on that other British band from the same era that never made it out of the 60s intact. Half of the Beatles are gone. Their music frozen in time with only Sir Paul and Ringo to make any new contributions. Their music is just as timeless and rings just as true today, but we will never hear the changes and evolution of the music as we do with the Stones.

This is not a back-to-the-60s tour like you get with so many other groups today.

Well, enough. I hope I can be in as good a shape at 70 as they are.

If so- it'll

"Be a gas!"

Amazing Beatles' Music and Singing

Thanks to Open Culture where I found the video of the vocal track of the Beatles' Medley on Abbey Road.

Wow.

To listen to that is to
a) be transported back to a different world and
b) to hear the awesome talent.

Don't be taken aback by the silences. That's where the instruments go.
Link (Thanks to Beth, too, for posting it on Facebook.)

Anyway, here's the video from You Tube:

Now, for the rest of the story (all parts together now.)

You Don't Know What You've Got Till It's Gone

John Denver took a great deal of musical criticism for his music. It always seemed so sweet and simple. He had that kind of a voice that to many he sounded fake, saccharine, simplistic. Perhaps some of it was also the fact that he first came along in the time of activism for peace, etc and he just didn't seem to meet THAT folk standard. Or maybe he seemed to "pop-"like. Too sentimental- and didn't make any excuses for it. Or even, perhaps, he was too successful and musicians like him are supposed to struggle.

I didn't know it at the time, but I saw him in the very first concert I attended in college. He had replaced Chad Mitchell in the activist folk-music group, The Mitchell Trio. I'd like to say my musical radar picked up what an incredible musician and future star he was. But I didn't.

Here's a snip of a PBS special a number of years ago when the Trio reunited and John was part of it.



John Denver died in an airplane accident in October 1997 at the age of 53. Today he would be 69, turning 70 at the end of the year!

A new album has come out. The Music is You: A Tribute to John Denver. (iTunes link.) I was listening to it the other evening. Groups like My Morning Jacket, Old Crow Medicine Show, Train, along with Dave Matthews, Blind Pilot, Josh Ritter and Emmylou Harris bring new life to some of Denver's timeless music. I was struck by the songs in a new way. Time- that great leveler- or perhaps that great magnifying glass- has leveled many of us and magnified the music of Denver. Blind Pilot's The Eagle and the Hawk along with Old Crow Medicine Show with Back Home Again give a deeper perspective to the music. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes close out the album with a foot-tapping and strumming alt-country Wooden Indian. Some may not like all of the interpretations, but it does remind us of Denver's versatility and lyricism. He may have been more a poet than we remember, more a visionary than we saw. It is a fine tribute and expands Denver's reach in a new day.

Since the album has just come out, I couldn't find any You Tube videos of these cuts. So, instead, why not go back to Denver himself.