Woody Guthrie had a sign that he stuck or painted on his guitars. It read:
THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS.
Woody was an extremely clever man. He knew you didn’t wipe out fascism by bombing, shooting or legislating.
War and violence creates hatred and fear. For every fascist killed two more are spawned. It is self-defeating. It is the cycle we are seeing in the Middle East – in Palestine, Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan……..
Fascism is born of desperation and ignorance. It is born out of hopelessness. People look for black and white, simple answers, to complex problems. They elect fascists to sort the problems. They turn to fascism to give them hope.
They are mistaken.
Woody recognised this. The answer to fascism, racism, and religious fanaticism in the long term is not violence, it is education – it is through song and intelligence.
I’m all for the death of fascism. I play my music, write my books, write my poems and write my blog. I protest.
Woody is someone I never grow tired of. He was so good – perceptive, amusing and biting. I guess we all known one or two people like this – grouchy, mean, nasty and thoroughly abusive.
I dedicate this to a couple of people I’ve had the misfortune to meet.
Mean Talking Blues Words and Music Adapted by Woody Guthrie
I’m the meanest man that ever had a brain,
All I scatter is aches and pains.
I’m carbolic acid, and a poison face,
And I stand flat-footed in favor of crime and disgrace.
If I ever done a good deed — I’m sorry of it.
I’m mean in the East, mean in the West,
Mean to the people that I like the best.
I go around a-causin’ lot of accidents,
And I push folks down, and I cause train wrecks.
I’m a big disaster — just goin’ somewhere’s to happen.
I’m an organized famine — studyin’ now I can be a little bit meaner.
I’m still a whole lot too good to suit myself — just mean…
I ride around on the subway trains,
Laughin’ at the tight shoes dealin’ you pain.
And I laugh when the car shakes from side to side,
I laugh my loudest when other people cry.
Can’t help it — I was born good, I guess,
Just like you or anybody else —
But then I… just turned off mean..
I hate ev’rybody don’t think like me,
And I’d rather see you dead than I’d ever see you free.
Rather see you starved to death
Than see you at work —
And I’m readin’ all the books I can
To learn how to hurt —
Daily Misery — spread diseases,
Keep you without no vote,
Keep you without no union.
Well, I hurt when I see you gettin’ ‘long so well,
I’d ten times rather see you in the fires of hell.
I can’t stand to fixed… see you there all fixed up in that house so nice,
I’d rather keep you in that rotten hole, with the bugs and the lice,
And the roaches, and the termites,
And the sand fleas, and the tater bugs,
And the grub worms, and the stingarees,
And the tarantulas, and the spiders, childs of the earth,
The ticks and the blow-flies —
These is all of my little angels
That go ’round helpin’ me do the best parts of my meanness.
And mosquiters…
Well, I used to be a pretty fair organized feller,
Till I turned a scab and then I turned off yeller,
Fought ev’ry union with teeth and toenail,
And I sprouted a six-inch stinger right in the middle of the tail,
And I growed horns…
And then I cut ’em off, I wanted to fool you.
I hated union ever’where,
‘Cause God likes unions
And I hate God!
Well, if I can get the fat to hatin’ the lean
That’d tickle me more than anything I’ve seen,
Then get the colors to fightin’ one another,
And friend against friend, and brother… and sister against brother,
That’ll be just it.
Everybody’s brains a-boilin’ in turpentine,
And their teeth fallin’ out all up and down the streets,
That’ll just suit me fine.
‘Cause I hate ever’thing that’s union,
And I hate ever’thing that’s organized,
And I hate ever’thing that’s planned,
And I love to hate and I hate to love!
I’m mean, I’m just mean…
Woody is one of my heroes. He stood for fairness and justice. He stood against racism and supported the poor and exploited. Woody exemplified the Protest song that gave rise to Bob Dylan and the sixties rebellion against the establishment.
The bankers and the politicians who support them have robbed the whole world. The people who hold power and pull the strings, who control the inequality and war in order to create profit, rob everyone. The system is corrupt. For someone to earn in 45 minutes more than an average man can earn from all the hard work of a full year is simply wrong.
The world is filled with people who are no longer needed — and who try to make slaves of all of us — and they have their music and we have ours.
Those people who hold the power have created a system that takes from the bottom and gives to the top. The inequality is obscene. There has to be more fairness and justice.
The best way to get to know any bunch of people is to go and listen to their music.
Music is a universal language. It transcends words.
There’s several ways of saying what’s on your mind. And in states and counties where it ain’t too healthy to talk too loud, speak your mind, or even vote like you want to, folks have found other ways of getting the word around. One of the mainest ways is by singing.
Woody sung his truth – about justice and freedom – on picket lines – to the unions and people being exploited.
I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim too ugly or too this or too that.
We are all human and should be treated with compassion. Racism, sexism and inequality need addressing.
He sound like Jose Mujica the Uruguayan President who said that the only good addiction is love.
A folk song is what’s wrong and how to fix it or it could be
who’s hungry and where their mouth is or
who’s out of work and where the job is or
who’s broke and where the money is or
who’s carrying a gun and where the peace is.
These are the songs we need more of. We need songs about real issues – there’s enough soppy love songs.
You can’t write a good song about a whorehouse unless you’ve been in one.
Woody had not only been in the whorehouses, he’d been on the road, he’d been down and out. He knew what it was like.
The words are the important thing. Don’t worry about tunes. Take a tune, sing high when they sing low, sing fast when they sing slow, and you’ve got a new tune.
Woody Guthrie had a sign that he stuck or painted on his guitars. It read:
THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS.
Woody was an extremely clever man. He knew you didn’t wipe out fascism by bombing, shooting or legislating.
War and violence creates hatred and fear. For every fascist killed two more are spawned. It is self-defeating. It is the cycle we are seeing in the Middle East – in Palestine, Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan……..
Fascism is born of desperation and ignorance. It is born out of hopelessness. People look for black and white, simple answers, to complex problems. They elect fascists to sort the problems. They turn to fascism to give them hope.
They are mistaken.
Woody recognised this. The answer to fascism, racism, and religious fanaticism in the long term is not violence, it is education – it is through song and intelligence.
I’m all for the death of fascism. I play my music, write my books, write my poems and write my blog. I protest.
Woody is one of my heroes. He stood up against wrongs regardless. He stood up against racism, the exploitative bosses and for equality and the rights of all people.
Tom Joad is one of my favourite songs of his. He encapsulated the whole of John Steinbeck’s superb book – The Grapes of Wrath – in one song. It is the story of the dust bowl – the people driven off their land by climate change and the banks – the exploitation, starvation, desperation and violence.
But Woody’s song was a song of defiance. No matter how big the enemy is you stand up for what is right. No backing down!
Excerpt – Woody Guthrie – Tom Joad
Ever’body might be just one big soul
Well it looks that a-way to me
Everywhere that you look, in the day or night
That’s where I’m a-gonna be, Ma
That’s where I’m a-gonna be
Wherever little children are hungry and cry
Wherever people ain’t free
Wherever men are fightin’ for their rights
That’s where I’m a-gonna be, Ma
That’s where I’m a-gonna be.
