Together with Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly (who purportedly carried a few souvenir bullets in his belly, but whose real name was Hudie Ledbetter) is considered a founding father of the American folk music movement. Pete Seeger lionized Leadbelly. In the 1930’s Leadbelly introduced traditional blues to the north, to a broader, whiter audience. A charismatic performer, Leadbelly not only played the blues on a booming 12 string guitar, he also sang all the popular tunes of his era, as well as a cornocopia of traditional folk music and slave songs.
The “king of the 12-string guitar” was born in Shreveport, Louisiana in the year of 1888. By age 12 he was playing “professionally” in the Shreveport red light district. By age 20 he had already served several terms in the Louisiana prison system. Legend has it that the folklorists John and Alan Lomax recorded Leadbelly in prison, and attached a phonograph record of Leadbelly’s Irene Goodnight to his parole petition – which indeed was granted in 1934 by Louisiana governor Oscar K. Allen. Such is the legend for what it’s worth.
Certainly, Leadbelly’s powerful voice and 12 string guitar style had an impact on the folk music movement. As I say, his repertoire included ragtime, traditional folk songs, and the pop music of his time. He penned, or is credited with writing such folk favorites as Midnight Special, Pick a Bale of Cotton, Rock Island Line, Irene Goodnight, and a host of other spirituals and blues songs. Thanks to the above-mentioned Lomaxes, many of Leadbelly’s recordings are preserved in the Library of Congress. Click below to hear two Leadbelly songs, the first of which, Pick a Bale of Cotton, was recorded only last week by me and Maybank somewhere outside the Louisiana prison walls (fortunately), and which is not to be found in the Library of Congress (also fortunately).
Pick a Bale of Cotton
Midnight Special is always a good song to play. I think a lot of people think that John Fogerty wrote this song, but it was Leadbelly. Here’s Midnight Special.
Since the Inauguration I feel almost happy, almost normal. It’s caught me unawares. I thought I’d never breathe easy again. But old Joe Biden is pulling it off. He’s actually competent. Trump and his allies are not gone by any means, but they have taken one on the nose. Maybe America can bounce back from Trump. The alt-right “revolutionaries” who crawled out from under their rocks can now crawl back under again. The Inauguration ceremonies were a pleasure to watch. The institutions held up. The government did a magnificent job. I almost feel proud to be an American. Now, if only they could deliver the vaccine as well as they arranged the Inauguration. ….
Are you getting the pandemic blues? Well, instead of swallowing some oxychloroquine, try singing. Here are some sing alongs:
Sorry ’bout this first one. It might be a little bit too close to home, but it’s the first one I thought of. It’s a great song, tho, and I wish I could do it justice. It’s Woody Guthrie’s So Long It’s Been Good to Know Ya, one of his best songs, in my opinion. According to Woody (1), when the great duststorms hit his section of Oklahoma, people really thought that the end of the world was upon them. As Woody tells it, they flocked to the churches for their final prayers. The duststorms heralded the start of the Great Depression in the early 1930’s. “Okies” – and farmers from all over the Southwest – had their farms decimated. Hundreds of thousands became Dust Bowl refugees, penniless migrants. Woody, who wrote many songs about the human tragedies of the duststorms somehow makes this accounting of the duststorm a funny one. My favorite lines are the last verse:
Well, the churches was jammed, the churches was packed.
But that dusty old duststorm had blowed so darn black
That the preacher could not read a word of his text
So he took off his ‘specs, took up collection
Said “Song it’s been good to know ya”
(1) Library of Congress recordings made by Alan Lomax in the 1930’s
Hope you found a song to sing along with. These songs are all easy to play, easy to learn. This is a good time to learn to play a musical instrument, right?
Together with Woody Guthrie, Hudie Ledbetter, better known as Leadbelly, is considered a founding father of the American folk music movement. The “king of the 12-string guitar” was born in Shreveport, Louisiana in the year of 1888. By age 12 he was playing “professionally” in the Shreveport red light district. By age 20 he had already served several terms in prison. Legend has it that the folklorists John and Alan Lomax recorded Leadbelly in prison, and attached a phonograph record of Leadbelly’s Irene Goodnight to his parole petition – which indeed was granted in 1934 by Louisiana governor Oscar K. Allen. Such is the legend for what it’s worth.
Certainly, Leadbelly’s powerful voice and 12 string guitar style were charismatic. Rooted in the blues, Leadbelly’s repertoire included ragtime, traditional folk songs, and the pop music of his time. He penned, or is credited with writing such folk favorites as Midnight Special, Pick a Bale of Cotton, Rock Island Line, Irene Goodnight, and a host of other spirituals and blues songs. Thanks to the Lomaxes, many Leadbelly recordings are immortalized in the Library of Congress. Click below to hear two Leadbelly songs, which were recorded only last week somewhere outside the Louisiana prison walls (fortunately), and which are not to be found in the Library of Congress (also fortunately).
Every Day Another Story hasn’t posted anything on Woody Guthrie in nearly a year, a serious omission. So, to rectify and make amends, here’s Going Down the Road Feeling Bad. Woody added lyrics to this traditional folksong, and Maybank and Bumba added some of their own, but, as in all of these “roots music”songs, there is a strength and optimism that shines through. So, as Woody used to say, “take it easy, but take it.”
Bumbastories’ Semi-Monthly Weekend Magazine presents its Annual Special Edition
Table of Contents
The Compulsion to Write : a psychological analysis (from the back of the bus)
Another Essay About the Compulsion to Write (but written this time from the train)
Another Essay about the Compulsion to Write (Yikes! It really is a compulsion)
An original song by Bumba about the great American city of New Orleans
A Scoop from roving reporter George Packard
A Book Review: a Science book (Oh no, not again!)
Another song (Oh no, not again!) **************************** THE
COMPULSION TO WRITE
As I sat on the #20 Wilshire bus I felt the urge to write. Well, not exactly an urge. It’s more like a reflex. The bus does that to me. Don’t worry, I didn’t make a mess. Ah, but how to explain my life-long fascination, nay, the emotional bond I share with buses and other forms of mass transportation? Any explanation would surely involve a long-winded “train of thought” as well as a pointless exploration of unconscious commuter lines, so let’s just forget about it. What was I saying? Yes… As I sat on the bus I wrote. I scribbled. I put stuff on the paper. Like most writers, I was confident that if I could only keep on writing, eventually something of some value would emerge. “Just keep writing,” I told myself. (This unfounded and irrational belief in the inevitable appearance of the the Muse is the writer’s version of the “gambler’s fallacy”). All the same, just the physical act of taking pen to paper, the act of forming letters on a page, composing words and thoughts (even playing on a computer screen if you like) is somehow calming, reassuring, and comforting. However, it’s definitely a compulsion. I looked up and noticed for the first time that there were other passengers on the bus. I looked out at the window. We were moving on a river of cars, and trucks, other buses. Wilshire Blvd was alive in its way. But while I was writing I hadn’t given any notice to Wilshire Bl. – or anything else. I had blocked everything out except for the paper and the pencil, and my writing, this scribbling, this reflecting on my own thoughts, this somewhat elevated form of monkey chatter. Writing is a compulsion for some (for most of us, if you’re still reading): writing serves to remove us from the world, from reality. It keeps us “busy”. My elderly cousin calls gambling “her therapist”. Everybody has their “therapist”. Maybe I’ll write something about that…….. ***********************************
ORIGINAL SONG
Here’s a song to the City of New Orleans, so fabled in song. What need, you ask, is there for yet another New Orleans song? None I can think of off hand. Anyhow I’m still working on this song about New Orleans, and it’s almost complete. It has that weird throw-in of a slow minor chord section, and I wonder if that works. Anyhoo.
Well, I never been to New Orleans They tell me it’s the land of dreams Gonna get down to New Orleans someday I’m gonna come in on that Mississippi Queen Prettiest darn boat you ain’t never did see Gonna come into New Orleans in the morning Oh, the rains came falling down Oh, the rains came falling down And then the levee didn’t hold On that awful day Still I’m goin on back to New Orleans Gonna walk down Basin St Gonna hear that music, gonna shuffle my feet, When I get down to New Orleans ****************************************************************************************************
A SCOOP FOR GEORGE PACKARD
George Packard, roving reporter for Bumbastories Magazine, roved the streets of Los Angeles looking for a scoop, a Breaking News story. George was hungry. Hungry for a scoop…….. “Oh, oh. I can see this comin’. George Packard, lazy slug that he is, is going to ride to the beach looking for a scoop. We’ll ride all around innocent little streets and alleys, metaphorically speaking, anyway, etc. etc…. And at the end of the report you show some photo like this one” It was nothing at all like that. Please, crazy voice in my head, please let me continue. “Do you promise that George Packard’s journalistic scoop is not going to be some ice cream cone?” Of course. I promise. It was …. “And it’s not going to be soft-serve ice cream either?Definiely not! It was Carvel! “I tell ya Bumba, that takes the cake!” Actually all I had was a cone. Chocolate. But they do make ice cream cakes of course. Carvels is famous for their cakes. But, like I said, all I had was a cone. Carvel’s, which used to be a great and noble New York institution, has a store in LA. Hey, the ice cream is still great! ***************************************
BOOK REVIEW: The Secret of the Universe, Revelations in Science by Isaac Asimov Another fine, fine collection of essays by the incredible Asimov. The Secret of Life, perhaps a trifle presumptuous of a book title, is simply the title of one of the essays in this charming little volume, It’s a particularly interesting essay that opens, like most the others, with a light, personal anecdote and then coyly proceeds to explicate some complicated matter (or non-matter in this case) of physics. All the essays have Asimov’s personal stamp: a dry sense of humor and a deep and sincere desire to share his knowledge with others. All the essays are written with ease and masterful grace. In this collection, written in 1990, Asimov covers the Solar System, the Outer Universe, and concludes with several pieces on nuclear fusion, chemistry, and human evolution. The breadth of the man’s knowledge continues to amaze. Naturally, Asimov is most expert in the physical sciences, but his erudition extends into mythology, religion, politics, and nearly everything else under the sun (which would bring us back to astronomy I suppose). Best known for his science fiction, Asimov also wrote hundreds of science books. What a prodigious author! He wrote about 500 books! Truly a masterful writer, he had the essay down pat. To conclude: if you like science, and/or you wished you knew a bit more about science, especially astronomy, and/or you just like being entertained by clear and lucid prose, then give this book a try. *************************************
A SONG
A song to conclude this week’s semi-annual Bumbastories Weekend Magazine. It’s This Land Is Your Land by Woody Guthrie, performed by yours truly last week, and you better sing along.
This song talks about having bad times, but also talks of better times. Somehow, Woody Guthrie was always encouraging. Woody Guthrie said something to the effect that he hated songs that make you feel like you’re not worth anything, and that he was there to fight those kinds of songs. It was true. Woody Guthrie was clearly something special in American music, someone who swam against the tide and who took on all comers. We’re still singing his songs. All of Woody’s songs told you that every person, no matter what kind of work he did, or where he came from, rich or poor, that every one had rights. Woody was not one to roll over and watch reality TV. So this song, so kindly sung by Bumba and Maybank, says “I’m going down the road feeling bad, but I ain’t gonna be treated thissa way”. Woody changed the lyrics a bit on this old folk song, something he did very often. That’s how he wrote ’em. Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan and others continued this tradition, this process of “writing” songs. So every body can do it. Write, sing, play.
A couple of songs to help you on your way. Here’s Goin’ Down The Road Feelin’ Bad, an old folk song, probably a hundred years. Woody Guthrie put his words to it in the 1930’s, but the song was not a new one then. Bumba and Maybank have updated the lyrics for your 2015 listening pleasure with corrections for inflation and a nod to the consumer price index, but the message of the song remains true. Have a good day, hang in there, and keep it movin’.
“Keep it movin’, buddy”. That’s what they say. Keep movin’
Keep rollin with the punches,
Go easy on the lunches.
Keep rockin to the rhythm.
And hold the pessimism
Find your inspiration
Waitin at the station
Hop that train
Get on that bus
Don’t look back
And try to stay out of jail.
Here’s another song to help you on your way. This song provides a goal, a destination: Jerusalem, the city of gold, of light. Oh What a Beautiful City, a Negro spiritual, perhaps two hundred years old, remains a beautiful song. There are a lot of ways to play it. I love Sonny Terry’s version the best. Check out Sonny Terry’s Oh What a Beautiful City. Meanwhile you’ll have to settle for Bumba and Maybank as recorded last night.
“It takes a worried man to sing a worried song. I’m worried now, but I won’t be worried long”
Maybank and I were singing this one again yesterday. Being a lazy SOB, I have very cleverly (I think) and quite surrepticiously and under-handedly inserted the new version of Worried Man Blues into an old Worried Man Blues post and I am passing it off as a fresh-off-the-press, new post. I don’t think anyone will notice, especially since I kept it a secret. Never mind. It’s a great song and we hope you sing along.
The origins of this song are not clear (at least not to Wikipedia). The Carter family first recorded it eighty years ago. The Stanley Brothers did it. Ralph Stanley has a good version, recorded only a few years ago. Woody Guthrie recorded it. Johnny Cash. etc., etc. I first heard it done by Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, who does it splendidly of course. It’s a Country, Bluegrass, and folk classic, a standard. The lyrics (naturally there are many versions and I’ve changed them a bit myself) are as fine as you’ll find, so it’s a fun song to play.
An Occasional Story or Magazine 