Tony Rice passes

Tony Rice, Innovative Bluegrass Guitarist, Dead at 69" Joseph Hudak 

Remembering Andy M. Stewart

Andy M. Stewart died on December 27, 2015.

Obituary: Andy M Stewart, singer and songwriter" David Pollack

"Andy M Stewart (1952-2015)" Jim Gilchrist

His most moving song:

"Land O' The Leal"

"It describes the grief of a dying mother whose daughter has died and who hopes to join her in the Land o’ the Leal – the land of the loyal, that is to say, Heaven." Bob Leslie

"I'm wearin' awa' Jean,

Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, Jean,

I'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal.

There's nae sorrow there, Jean

There's neither cauld nor care, Jean,

The day's aye fair

In the land o' the leal.

 

To me ye hae bee true Jean,

Your task's ended noo, Jean

For near kythes my view

O' the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,

She was baith gude and fair, Jean,

And, oh! we grud'd her sair

To the land o' the leal.

 

But dry that tearfu' ee Jean,

Grieve na for her and me, Jean

Frae sin and sorrow free

I' the land o' the leal.

Now fare ye weel, may ain Jean!

This warld's cares are vain, Jean,

We'll meet and aye be fein

I' the land o' the leal"

Penguin Eggs ends its run

 "Edmonston-born folk magazine Penguin Eggs folds after 23-year run"  Tom Murray

Remembering Phil Ochs

"Phil Ochs Turns 80 Years Old Today" Ross Altman, December 19, 2020

Diving into Bruce Springsteen's "The River"

The River

Everyone has his or her Bruce Springsteen favorites and here's why "The River" strikes such a deep chord within me. 

For background, it's a deviation from Springsteen's earlier songwriting generally featuring fantastical figures and others cavorting amidst gritty cityscapes.

How he sets up/unfolds "The River" is also different than his earlier works -- a biographical extrapolation of sorts featuring early moments in the marriage between his sister and brother-in-law. It opens with the blossoming of a relationship buoyed with the typical hopes and dreams for the future. But reality soon intrudes:

"I got a job working construction for the Johnstown Company

But lately there ain't been much work on account of the economy

Now all them things that seemed so important

Well, mister, they vanished right into the air

Now I just act like I don't remember

And Mary acts like she don't care"

Those last two lines above are explosive while simultaneously matter-of-fact raw. Yet critically, no fingers are pointed or blame levied. The state of the pairing is what it is.

The following verse recalls what was once tenderly shared but now is achingly lost, or hopefully just misplaced: 

"But I remember us riding in my brother's car

Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir

At night on them banks I'd lie awake

And pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take

Now those memories come back to haunt me

They haunt me like a curse

Is a dream a lie if it don't come true

Or is it something worse?"

Overall, "The River" has a haunting effect even if the tale is not an experience familiar to the listener. It's painful to hear about the dormant bond between the couple.

It also makes us want to feel this special connection in our own lives, this primacy of living at its most connected, that they once enjoyed. 

"The Sound of One Hand Writing" a song minus music

The next three entries are from my song collection, minus music since I have no capability of providing such.

You know the saying that you can’t un-see certain things? The following words, once read, might fall into that category.

I’m still on my John Prine-ish (if that isn’t heresy) binge. 

Hopefully, this will be the end of my moving in this direction. If not, an intervention, followed by a 12 step group, might be required. Or a shunning.

---

I got a woodpecker in my pants

some mistake it for a fer-de-lance

it makes my legs sway to and fro

although both my feet flatly say no

 

I’m stuck with a pair of alligator arms

don’t worry, they’ll do ya no harm

And the eyes I own aren’t the same size

On the beauty way, I’ll win no prize

 

(Chorus) We have our bodies til death do us part

I think mine was assembled a la carte

 

My disks are each fully fragmented

still in place, yes, but slightly dented

biting into moon pies makes me giggle

when I get up, my thighs they wiggle

 

I need to minimize my gluteus max

ain’t all diets a personal sin-tax?

lost count adding up my multiple chins

Let’s call it a maximizing of all my skin

 

We have our bodies til death do us part

I think mine was assembled a la carte

 

My nose knows what’s fingerlickin’ good

food tasting should be my livelihood

In my boyhood I was just misunderstood

Not too many spark plugs under my hood

 

Some call me a friggin’ human hammerhead

poundin’ roofing nails are my butter and bread

my head is now just one huge cranial cavity

my biceps theys inverted but I think its gravity

 

We have our bodies til death do us part

I think mine was assembled a la carte

 

You know my toes, they refuse to twinkle

when it come to snorin’ I’m Rip Van Winkle

my pecs been the victim of some kidnapping

I’m a piss poor candidate for chromosome mapping

 

The few muscles in me are the slow twitch kind

I’m disinclined to ever seek peace of mind

nobodys ever asked me to pee in a cup

cause my human algorithm has never added up

 

We have our bodies til death do us part

I think mine was assembled a la carte

"Johnny Spillane" a song minus music

 Got to have at least one olde Irish ditty in the repertoire.

Johnny Spillane be my name
I’m neither of fortune or fame
but with my able hardy back
I climbed out of the potato sack
and made a family and a living

Life was bleak in County Cork
me the twelfth coming of the stork
my family had neither land
nor any opportunity at hand
so I shipped off to Ameri-cay

Having no papers or money
oh, that land of milk and honey
she was mighty, mighty harsh
it being ‘no dogs and no Irish’
so I did what I had to do

Getting off that bottom rung
was no sweet sung song
the dollars and coins were sweated
as I obeyed and marionetted
biding my time all the while

Then I caught me a lucky break
an offer from a Mallow rake
to supply the needed muscle
enforcing his wayward hustle
and my pockets began to fill

Now, I sit behind a desk
others working at my behest
a society respected man
who started with nary a plan
blessed, if there be a God

My past, I keep it well hidden
when I was doing others’ bidding
for no one would ever believe
what I did so I could achieve
and drag myself out of the gutter

Now I’m acting like the Cromwell Brits
it gives my elderly parents fits
scorning the powerless once like me
though they’re not truly a threat as I see
all they want is their dreams to be

"Carrying the Poisin" a song minus music

 * Inspired by the Bruce Springsteen song “Highway Patrolman”

 

We was raised on a family farm way out of town

sharecroppin’ wasn’t easy but the lifeblood we found

two boys, me and Jed, our sister Rose died at eleven

buried past the barn when he was twelve and I ten

one day here, then gone, Mama said it was the fever

told me not to say a word and everyone believed her

 

Soon Jed turned dark, just ugly treating others

we was the same but so unlike blood brothers

he earned a reputation, it spread and soiled me

kids would quietly edge away, watching fearfully

Becky Cook took to likin’ me, be it luck or fate

with her I felt alive, liftin’ the heaviest of weight

 

Chorus

Life moves on but absence ain’t just not being seen

Dark holes in families, living in the shadows between

 

My parents said don’t you dare bring her around

When I’d ask why, they’d say you just calm down

Jed told me do it, with a look like he knew more

Then he’d smirk and continue with his chores

one day Becky called wanting to see me all alone

Daddy and Mama in town, Jed to parts unknown

 

She showed up and I told her I liked her smile

I went for a favorite book, floatin’ all the while

when I returned, she was gone less one shoe remaining

I called her name to no answer, cryin’ a silent prayer

then I heard a scream outside and tore into the yard

Jed was draggin’ Becky like an animal to discard

 

Chorus

Life moves on but absence ain’t just not being seen

Dark holes in families, living in the shadows between

 

Jed turned, let her go, then ran into the barn

Becky shaking, her dress dirty and blood adorned

Daddy’s truck appeared, he asked “why’s she here?”

“Jed hurt Becky” and Daddy’s eyes emitted fear

“Where’s Jed?” “He’s in the barn and I want at him”

Daddy had Mama take us inside, him pale and grim

 

A shot rang out and Daddy took two hours to return

sayin’ “there’ll be no more problems, nothing of concern”

one day later, he spoke again, “it’s time for the truth”

He said, “Emory, this is gonna taste like bitterroot

it was evil but family, what Jed did to our sweet Rose

but taking it outside us left me nothing but what I chose”

 

Chorus

Life moves on but absence ain’t just not being seen

Dark holes in families, living in the shadows between

 

A decade on, shivering under the strain of a demon seed

so why Jed and not me doing these dirty deeds?

Why his end while Becky blessed me with her grace?

Will my family legacy lure me to such an evil place?

My 2020 Holiday Ditty

Santa Claus is now consistently blitzed

The sleigh is perpetually on the fritz

and the elves are demanding to be called little people

St. Nick can no longer take the heat

moaning "Jeff Bezos just can't be beat"

noting the North Pole ain't exactly a commerce hub

Just what else could go wrong?

Jeez, is that Rudolph smoking a bong?

and now he and his fellow flyers want to join the Teamsters

Santa can't tell Dancer and Prancer apart

yep, it's long past due for a heart-to-heart

for Blitzen's kibitzing with Vixen and Cupid's flinging daggers

The working conditions are extremely tense

buoyed no more by free myrrh and frankincense

Wunorse Openslae and two other elves have filed for disability

It was way past time for an intervention

or maybe a simple circumvention

is there anyone up to fulfilling Father Christmas' challenge?

Shouting "Whoa, red went out with the Cold War"

arrived that mainstay heroine of feminist lore

The only being who could rectify this Kris Kringle disaster

She's a far distant niece of Santa, this Santee

as competent as only a woman can be

but can she alone turn the tide on Yule's unfinished business?

Full of fire and pure impropriety

proud bearer of her glamorous notoriety

Santee was a ninja before being a ninja was cool

"Get me the addresses and names"

"We'll haul my uncle's butt out of the flames"

"Me and my fierce lady warrior Amazonias will finish the job"

There was no time to dillydally

Aboard came Artemisia, Boudica and Grace O'Malley

Little Debbie was in if no ho-ho's were to be served or uttered

Logistics being the entire key

Undelivered gifts equal outright blasphemy

Santee needed her wizardly wizardesses to step up grande

So out went an air force of drones apace

enveloping the universe's deep dark space

the deliverance of offerings on their way to the deserving

All the children received their fervent wishes

alongside the ranks of the blessed moral militias

for it's the choice of deeds and not waste-of-oxygen speakers that matter

Santee later checked in with her uncle

Him now imbibing only the nectar of honeysuckle

she wanted to know if his holiday wishes came true

"They certainly did my fair niece"

"I'm now clad only in blue-tinged fleece"

"Might I call you now the one and only Christmas chaffeuse?"

"No, this was just a one-off event"

"I'm now seeking out other discontents"

"You can rest assured future December 25s are in many good hands"

"The Troubadour Chronicles" by Harvey Reid

 "History Matters: Harvey Reid pens troubadour history" J. Dennis Robinson

Reid has a new book out on his life in music.

Mike Regenstreif's Top 10 releases for 2020

 Mike Regenstreif has posted his Top 10 releases for 2020 choices.

The Folk Radio UK reviewers makes their choices

 "Best Folk Music Albums of 2020" Alex Gallacher