abe partridge.
you gotta listen to the words.
via the Avett Brothers.
Written by folk legend Woody Guthrie, the counter-culture revolutionary. The bros do it true to the original version, but the black and white portraiture is a bonus.
I didn’t know this, but Woody died of Huntington’s disease, which was passed down from his mother and then passed on to his daughters.
or maybe this version…
the boys are at it again.
from their upcoming album Gleam III.
my father will say they need a haircut and a shave. and it’s a shame they can’t finish out that garage. but wouldn’t you like to be hanging out with them while they sit around and play?
saturday morning music. actually, this is better suited for a lonely friday night.
all you need is a loose-stringed guitar and a kick drum. and that voice.
if you haven’t listened to tyler childers, here you go.
Lord the wind can leave you shiverin’
As it waltzes o’er the leaves
It’s been rushin’ through my timber
Til’ your love brought on the spring
Now the mountains all are blushin’
And they don’t know what to say
‘Cept a good long line of praises
For my lovely Lady May
Come sit by the fire. I have a story to tell.
Ok, so it’s Verlon Thompson’s story. And Guy Clark’s.
we are the land of the oppressed
and still they come
we are the land of the unfair, the unjust, and the selfish
and still they come
we are the land of the destitute, the marginalized, the ignored
and still they come
we are the land of prejudice, and bigotry, and hatred
and still they come
we are the land of assault, and theft, and murder
and still they come
we are the land of toxic waste, and foul air, and undrinkable water
and still they come
we are the land of filthy cities, the homeless, and needles in the playground
and still they come
we are the land of division, and tribalism, and democracy in decline
and still they come
we are the land of despair, and shattered dreams, and lost hope
and still they come
we are the great Satan, the imperialist nation, the evil America
and still they come
.
we are the land of friendships, and neighbors, and welcoming strangers
and still they come
we are the land of charity, of goodwill, and acts of kindness
and still they come
we are the land of giving, and helping, and sacrifice
and still they come
we are the land of your faith, of my faith, or no faith
and still they come
we are the land of mountain majesty, of fruited plains, and sparkling rivers
and still they come
we are the land of small towns, and family farms, and shining cities on the hill
and still they come
we are the land of hard work, and opportunities, and reward
and still they come
we are the land of dreaming, of possibilities, of anything can happen
and still they come
we are the land of the underdog, and second chances, and comebacks
and still they come
we are the land of the brash, the home of the brave, and defender of rights
and still they come
we are the inspiration of yesterday, the bread for the day, and the hope for tomorrow
and still they come
.
we are the land of hopelessness and hope
we are the land of the poor and the rich
we are the land of the atheist and the faithful
we are the land of oppression and liberty
we are America
and still they come
copyright 2019, joseph e bird
The other day I wrote about finding special moments throughout the day in piece called ninety nine miles. At the end, while travelling back home, the narrator finally finds some relief as Scott sings, Salina, I’m as nowhere as I can be.
Did you Google? Did you figure it out?
Who is Scott? Answer, Scott Avett, of course.
The song, Salina. It starts out as just another nice Avett Brothers song about being away from home. Then near the end, the music takes on a symphonic quality.
Click the link and stay with it. No video on this clip, just great music for a rainy Saturday night.
Joseph E Bird 