Would Woody Have Approved?

Woody Guthrie "This Land Is Your Land"

“This Machine Kills Fascists”

When Woody Guthrie submitted “This Land Is Your Land” for copyright in 1940, he wrote on the manuscript, ““This song is Copyrighted in U.S., under Seal of Copyright # 154085, for a period of 28 years, and anybody caught singin it without our permission, will be mighty good friends of ourn, cause we don’t give a dern. Publish it. Write it. Sing it. Swing to it. Yodel it. We wrote it, that’s all we wanted to do.”

I hope he wouldn’t mind if others just . . . I don’t know . . . added to it. After all, rearranging and adapting songs has always been in the best folk music tradition. And, that’s what I did, wrote a couple of additional verses.

But before I get to them, whoever’s reading this ought to know that the song that’s been called “A love song to America,” was just a bit subversive. In fact, Woody penned the piece as a response to Irving Berlin’s “God Bless America,” a song for which he had a decided distaste.

Two of the original verses that are usually omitted from school-house songbooks, because of their distinctly political tenors, are:

As I went walking, I saw a sign there,
And on the sign there, It said “no trespassing.”
But on the other side, it didn’t say nothing!
That side was made for you and me.

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

It is in the spirit of “This Land Is Your Land” that I offer three verses of my own:

On lines like cattle, our hopes unheeded,
We jobless waited, for the jobs we needed;
Wall Street was laughing, and I had to wonder:
Is this land still made for you and me?

 All Wall Street’s power and wealth can’t stop me.
Not its lawsuits threatening; nor its jail cells waiting.
I’ll sing my message—to whoever’s listening, ‘cause
I can still sing for you and me!

 No Plutocrat can purloin my freedom.
I’ve the Bill of Rights and The Constitution.
So, now lets rise up—and stand together. Remind them . . .
This land was made for you and me!

 Maybe it isn’t Woody, but I’d like to think he would’ve approved.

Entertaining ideas . . .

My mother used to tell the story of how—at a very young age—I stood up in front of a crowd and, without any prompting, did an acceptable impression of Elvis Presley.

That’s when she knew, she told me, that music and performing were in my future. Accordingly, shortly afterward she bought me my first guitar—a Stella with Black Diamond strings—and thus set me on a course a course for the rest of my life. Continue reading

Off Point: Country Music, editing, and me

As some of you may be aware, in addition to being a social media facilitator, search engine optimizer and manager, writer (with a Master’s in journalism), and any number of other things, I am and have been a professional musician for the better part of my life, sometimes full-time, sometimes part. But, always. I also write songs: nothing you’ve probably ever heard, but still . . .

So, this weekend I attended a songwriters’ workshop and evaluation  at the Nugget, so that I might get some feedback from the professional evaluators who were judging.

As luck would have it, KTNV Channel 2 News was on the scene, taping a story for their evening news. They taped a snippet of my entry, and interviewed me afterward.

The question was, “Why are you here today?” and I think I answered it pretty well.

  1. Some people are so familiar with their own works, that they are unable to see them. It’s not that they’re in denial, it’s just that they see what they expect to see. I actually wrote a blog post about this.
  2. Editing yourself can be self-defeating and next to impossible. When I blue-pencil my prose or fiction (or lyrics, for that matter), I generally obsess about it, changing words here and there (wielding my thesaurus like a madman with a chainsaw) to the extent that I manage to leech all of the spontaneity and “juice out if it.

That’s why objective listeners, readers, observers can be invaluable.

What do you think? Are objective evaluations important?

How to Sing the Blues: A dispatch from Conundrum Canyon

Athough my memories of the three or four weeks I spent in Conundrum Canyon are fuzzy at best, there is one experience that has left its indelible mark upon my musical soul: a lesson in how to play the blues from a true master of the form (at least that’s what he told me he was).   But, Roger, you’re probably saying to yourself, you’ve been a musician most of your life. How could it be that you need instruction in playing the blues?

I wasn’t that guy

Allow me to explain the seeming inconsistency, young Padawans:

It is true that I am a long-time practitioner of the musical arts; it is also true that, having been exposed to the myriad forms of musical expression, I found the blues—with its immutable I-IV-V progression of chords—to be among the most limiting and (dare I say?) boring.

However, Conundrum Valley, off-the-grid as it is, offered little in the way of amusements or even outlets for one’s artistic muse to run free.

So when—during an interminable week of watching the (admittedly) majestic redwoods grow their leafy limbs ever higher into the azure sky that domed  the Valley—an old man, his skin the color and texture of teriyaki beef jerky (the peppered variety), offered to tutor me in the basic nuances of what he called the troubles (taking a hint from the Irish Rebellion, no doubt), I leaped at the opportunity to acquire such insight at the talented and aged fingertips of the legend known to the world as “Flatulent Willie” Warbuton.

Nor am I “Flatulent” Willie Warburton

I had planned to recount Flatulent Willie’s  blueseloquent insights  verbatim, but was informed by his attorney that they were copyrighted and his intellectual property and were scheduled to be published in book form in the Fall and online and if I repeated, Tweeted, blogged, or Facebooked even a single solitary syllable of his syntactic wisdom he—on behalf of his client—would “sue my plagiarizing ass off.”

So, I went online myself and found the following:

“How To Sing The Blues”

Getting started with the blues

  • Most blues songs begin, “I woke up this morning.”
  • “I got a good woman” is a bad way to begin a blues, unless you stick something nasty in the next line, such as “I got a good woman—with the meanest dog in town.”
  • Blues are simple. After you have the first line right, repeat it. Then find something that sort of rhymes.
    • I got a good woman, with the meanest dog in town. He got teeth like Austin Powers and he weighs 500 pounds. Continue reading

Three show-biz autobiographies you shouldn’t miss

Show Biz Autobiographies: moss hart | john phillips | sammy davis jr

Ever since I was a kid I’ve been drawn to the arts—most of them, anyway. At one time or another, I’ve fantasized a career as a

  • movie director,
  • playwright,
  • author,
  • artist,
  • musician
  • TV producer

Unfortunately, the only career I was ever able to make a living at was as a professional musician (Well, maybe a little as a writer, but not the way I’d imagined). No matter, though: I lived out my dreams vicariously, through biographies and autobiographies. What follows are three autobiographies that had the strongest impact on me and informed me as the person I am today.

Act One: An Autobiography By Moss Hart (1959).

Act One by Moss Hart

Act One by Moss Hart

The name Moss Hart might not be familiar to most of you reading this today, but during the ’30s and ’40, the playwriting team of George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart was as well known as Trey Parker and Matt Stone (creators of South Park) are in the naughts. Together, the two of them wrote Broadway hit comedies that are still performed today, such as You Can’t Take It With You, The Man Who Came To Dinner, and George Washington Slept Here.

In Act One Mr. Hart tells the story of his early life in best-seller fashion: from his impoverished Manhattan childhood to his discovery of live theater and the lure of Broadway to his apprenticeship as social director at myriad summer resorts to his initial attempts at writing plays and his  first meeting with Mr. Kaufman—in prose that is infused with an unabashed affection for all things theatrical and free of any artifice—and ends as the pair’s first collaboration, Once In A Lifetime, opens to rave reviews on Broadway.

Interspersed with Mr. Hart’s own story are tasty vignettes of the period: The Algonquin Round Table, summers in the Catskills, the rewards of Little Theater—but most of all, the story of man who never lost his passion and his dream.

It was this book, above all other things, that provided me a sense of optimism, a passion for art, and a love of live theater that continues to this day.

Papa John (1987

John Phillips: Papa John

Cover of Papa John

If Moss Hart’s story represents a dream realized, Papa John, this autobiography of the John Phillips—founder of The Mamas & The Papas—is a nightmare of sex, dysfunction, and addiction. In a tale laden with 60s excesses Mr. Philips chronicles his ascension from Greenwich Village folksinger to his gathering the the rest of the group members forming them and directing them to the apex of their critical and commercial success—followed by his downward plunge (spiral is too moderate a term) into drugs and attempts at rehab, all the time dragging with him the other members as well as those with whom he came into contact.

 

Although Phillips tries to paint a sympathetic self-portrait, he fails and the sense of entitlement that informed him, both personally and artistically until his death, shines strongly though.

Although I admired John Phillips as an artist, Papa John provided me as good an explanation as any as to why I’d always been uncomfortable watching him perform.

Yes, I Can: The Autobiography of Sammy Davis, Jr. (1965)

"Yes I Can" Sammy Davis, Jr

Yes, I Can Cover

The life of Sammy Davis, Jr. could have been that of any Black man growing up in the 40 and 50s, except for his exceptional talent as a singer, dancer, and all-round entertainer.

Yes, I Can, opens as Mr. Davis is in a car wreck and, fearing an impending death, reflects upon his life from a childhood as the youngest member of his parents’ vaudeville act, through his success and discovery in his teens and early 20s, his marriage to Swedish actress, May Britt (then considered

May Britt, actress
Mrs. Sammy Davis, Jr.

misogyny), his friendships with Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and eventual induction into the Rat Pack of the 1960s.

Through Mr. Davis’s recollections, we learn the reasons (and accompanying tribulations) behind his conversion to Judaism, his self-doubts, the racism he encountered in the Deep South, the loss of one eye, and finally his triumphs as a world-class entertainer.

Yes, I Can is an easy read and many will find it inspirational if not illuminating. As such, it reads as easily as a summer beach novel.

These three autobiographies—along with one other that will have to wait—are pleasant diversions, yet still offer—if not a glimpse, then a peak—into lives that are different from most of our own.

Image Credits: Respective publishers.

 

 

 

Have a problem? Chances are Cary Tennis Has a(n) answer

Since You Asked by Cary Tennis

Since You Asked by Cary Tennis

Cary Tennis has been penning the Since You Asked column for Salon.com, since 1991, offering sagely advice on such topics as:

  • Help! I’m falling for a fat man — Weighing in, in Washington
  • My wife quit shaving her legs and it turns me off — Worried in South Carolina
  • I’m a gifted high achiever who wants to be a flight attendant —Undecided
  • At what point can I just give up on my son? — Giving Up on the Kid
  • Should I stick with my girlfriend through here cancer? — Confused in Colorado
  • If my wife dressed better, would gay guys stop hitting on me? — Amused in North Carolina
  • I used to be funny, but now I’m boring and self-conscious — Self-conscious
  • I’m not sure I have a self. How do I get one? — Missing in action

Continue reading

Getting the gig

Roger Scime | Scribe Site Content Creation | Getting the Gig

Yep, that's me, all right.

From my previous post, A good dance band is never out of work,  you may have surmised that once-upon-a-time I was a professional musician. For quite a few years, in fact. And, as a band leader, I learned a few things about business that I carried over to my website design company when I left the neon light of the Las Vegas Strip (Really!)

But, that will have to wait for another time.

The following steps apply to businesses, entrepreneurs, employees—and even musicians. Y’all are intelligent enough to make any necessary substitutions.

  1. Get your act together. By “act” I mean the literal meaning of the noun, as in “something brought about by human will”. In other words, what you’re gonna do. Here are some of the components: choose your material, rehearse and arrange it, decide what songs you’ll be playing as well as the order in which you’ll present them. Decide what kind of audience you prefer and choose, arrange, etc. accordingly.
  2. Research venues. Make certain that your music fits a venue that actually exists. If your kick is Nigerian toe-slapping music, make sure there’s a place where that kind of thing is appreciated. Or that there’s at least the potential for appreciation.
  3. Decide whether you must be paid (in some manner) or if you might be willing to play showcases, open mics, and festivals for the experience and publicity. Choose your venue accordingly.
  4. Approach whoever does the hiring and arrange for an audition.
  5. Choose the material you’ll perform at the audition. Because you’ve researched the venue, you know what will work and what won’t. Don’t play for yourself; play for the decision maker.
  6. Show up early. Set up quickly and unobtrusively. Don’t chase out any customers who are already there.
  7. Perform your audition set. Don’t chase out any customers who are already there.
  8. Tear down quickly and unobtrusively. Don’t chase out any customers who are already there.
  9. Unless the owner indicates that s/he wants to talk to you immediately, as soon as you’ve torn down completely, approach him or her and tell them you’ll contact them the following day.
  10. Then, do so.

So, until we meet again: Keep rocking.

A good dance band is never out of work!

Roger Scime | Scribe Site | A good dance band is never out of work

Rock on!

A good dance band is never out of work.

What in the heck am I talking about? and, what doe it have to do with content creation or business?

Here’s a hint: It has absolutely nothing to do with playing danceable music; but, then again, it has everything to do with it.

Break it down: People like to dance, even those who can’t. There seems to be some biological-neurological-physiological-psychological—something—that responds to certain rhythmic patterns and set one’s toes to a-tappin’. Don’t ask me, I’m in that second category.

But, just accept it: people like to dance. Think Studio 54. Think disco. Think house (the music, not the TV show). Think Saturday Night Fever. Do you know how much money the Bee Gees made off that soundtrack? I don’t either, but I bet it bought a shitload of Capezios and Angel Flights.

Corollary: People like to dance, so a band that plays music that people can dance to is going to be popular with people who dance (or would like to dance). That attracts them to your venue.

Corollary: Club owners, bartenders, and cocktail waitresses like people who are dancing, a/k/a customers. Why? Because dancing feet are thirsty feet and alcohol is the divine lubrication of happy-thirsty feet . . . which leads to more drinks being sold. Simply stated: Drinking = dancing. Dancing = drinking. The circle of life.

So, here we have the needs of both the audience and club owner-bartender-cocktail waitress being filled. And, yours, too. As the primary mover behind this miracle of symbiotic synergy (synergistic symbiosis?), you’re getting paid for your services . . . aren’t you?

Some bands look down on playing danceable music: They want to play sold-out concerts in mammoth stadiums. Or small, intimate coffee houses, where the lights are dim and the smoke is thick, and the audience listens rapturously to every nuanced lyric turn and subtle, muted note.

They’re allowed. Just substitute “crowd-pleasing” for “good dance band,” or “content creator,”  or “business owner,” or whatever else you’d like it to be.

That’s just one of the wonderful things about a good metaphor—which is exactly what “dance band” is.

It’s a Libertarian paradise

Critical Journalism Blog
Be careful what you wish for

No unions! . . . No health care for the uninsured! . . . No subsidies for the arts! . . . No financial oversight of Wall Street! . . . No public education! . . . No pollution controls! . . . No safety net . . . No EPA . . . Etcetera,  etcetera, etcetera.