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Little Richard is one of my heroes. I first heard him in the early sixties and he blew my mind. For me Elvis wasn’t the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll it was Little Richard. His explosive style was incandescent. Nobody else got near.
At a school fete, in the 1962, I took my dansette along and set up as a human jukebox. It gave me licence to blast out my music all afternoon. I only took one album – Little Richard – but it was in great demand. I did not make much for the school fund but I had a great time.
Strangely I had never seen him live – probably because I did not much like the parody of himself that he had become in the sixties. I wanted that original sound. But then in 2000 and something he played Bradford. I got tickets and took my youngest son along.
It was a strange gig – a third Rock ‘n’ Roll, a third preaching and a third Gospel. Not the best by any means but at least a glimpse of the man. At the end of the gig Little Richard invited everyone to come and see him after the gig, to get a signed poster. Well it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I walked down the street to the rendezvous, along with a number of others, and was chatting to the guy who had been the support act – Stan Dulson – he had been the lead singer with the Measles – one of my favourite bands – who did a cracking Casting My Spell.
Arriving at the place I joined the queue clutching my bag of precious LPs which I had brought with me. They were albums from the sixties that I had cherished for forty hyears. Very special to me. I had hoped Little Richard might make my year and sign them. I was told by two heavy dudes who were manning the door that if I brought anything out of my bag they’d smash the albums and break my arms. From the look on their faces and the size of their muscles I gathered that they were not kidding.
Another tough guy inside the door charged me £25 for the privilege and I went in. My son wasn’t allowed in with me without paying another £25. I met Little Richard, shook his hand, told him how great he was, told him my name, received a blessing from god and he signed my poster.
I came out thinking that this was all a bit heavy and exploitative.
I have that signed poster in my study. I often look at it and think back to that surreal evening.
But I suppose I did get to meet Little Richard and I do have a personalised poster signed by the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll.
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…
Patriotism – An outdated, tribal relic – the last refuge of a scoundrel.
It was Samuel Johnson back in 1775 who stated that patriotism was the last refuge of a scoundrel. I agree with him.
I am British but I do not see that as something that defines me. I have more in common, as I see every day on my blog, with people all over the world than I do with most of the people in my own country.
Above all I am a compassionate human being. I side with likeminded people who respect nature and other people, who are tolerant, forward looking, thoughtful, caring, creative, humane and take responsibility for their actions. I side against people who are cruel, narrow-minded, elitist, callous, selfish, shallow and destructive.
I am proud of many things in my culture that have come from the history of my country. I am proud of the way ordinary people have fought down the ages for social justice, democracy and tolerance. I am proud of how we have taken in the deprived and been a refuge for the persecuted. I am proud of the way we have produced a set of values that are worthy – based on justice, freedom, tolerance and respect.
I am not proud of a lot of things in our culture and history. I despise our class system and inequality, our royalty, our inbred xenophobia and racism, our history of expansionism and empire, our treatment of foreigners, our involvement with slavery, our superiority and smugness, our involvement with many wars, our snobbishness and aristocracy.
I am aware that Britain is one of the best places to live in the whole world. I like the way we are a mongrel nation with genes from all over the globe, when colour and creed have been assimilated to create hybrid vigour.
I love our language, a rich nuanced language that reflects our diversity, with words borrowed from cultures all over the world; a language that reflects our vitality, culture and aspirations.
I love the way we have side-lined religion and no longer indoctrinate our children.
I love our education system, health service, pluralism and democracy.
I love our justice system.
Yet I am well aware that our prosperity has been constructed on the spoils of our empire, the rape of countries around the world, the exploitation of their natural resources and people. There is nothing noble about it. Neither is there anything wonderful about the way this vast wealth has been squirrelled away into the pockets of so few at the expense of so many.
When I travel around the world I am often appalled by what I find – the misogyny, cruelty, indoctrination, religious sectarianism, cruelty, poverty, inequality, squalor and violence. I enjoy living in a country with order, law and freedom.
Yet these values I cherish are not tied up with a country; they come from inside individuals who are civilised and progressive; people who can be found all over the world. I side with them.
Would I fight for my country? Yes and no. I would choose to fight if I felt the cause was right. I would choose to fight against fascism but not exploitation, expansion or out of greed.
I side with Wilfred Owen – I would not die for that old lie:
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
“It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”
For me my country is only as good as what it stands for. I would fight for certain values – not for the rock and dirt.
My country is an outmoded concept that is a tribal relic. It has no worth. I choose to look to take those values forth into the world and educate the whole world, to do away with racism, misogyny, intolerance, cruelty and xenophobia and herald in a new age of equality, respect, tolerance and freedom.
I would tear down the walls and build bridges. I would open the borders and educate the masses. I would want a fairer, more equal world.
I dream of a world without countries, nationalism or the scoundrels that exploit those outmoded concepts.
I live to make the world a better place. Why don’t you join me? Creativity gives a purpose to life. This blog celebrates creativity. I welcome you. Please have a look at my books, art, poems and art.
This is an idealist’s shriek at the absurd, the horrendous and the obscene in the huge optimism that we can make it better.
This is a blog in pursuit of the marvellous.
I ask you to devour all that is wonderful –
and detest all that is cruel, vicious and mean.
You will find lots of life, sex and ideas in this blog – (Ideas such as – there is no god, no purpose, no great scheme, no after-life) – but I do not set out to be offensive, merely to argue my passionately held point of view.
This blog is a celebration of Life – not Death.
What is obscene is not sex.
Obscenity is:
– The destruction of the environment
– War
– The indoctrination of children
– Overpopulation
– Cynical exploitation
– Cruelty to animals and people
– Grotesque disparity of wealth
– Deforestation
– Fanaticism in politics and religion
– Pollution
These are the things I stand against.
These are the obscenities.
This blog celebrates Love, Humour, Kindness and Awe.
It is a howl of creativity – A feast of ideas – A source of controversy.
A thing of beauty – A delight of wonder – A splurge of passion.
I preach Tolerance – Empathy – Equality – Freedom – Respect –
Responsibility and Passionate Argument.
I will post some of my photos from round the world, examples of my poetry, extracts from my books, my views, ideas and dreams. I will tell you what I stand for and against and argue my case.
It would be great it you told me your views. Perhaps we could have a good argument about it!! There’s nothing better than a good passionate exchange of deeply held views.
This will be the marmite of blogs!
The aim of the terrorists is to impose their narrow view on the population, create fear and vent their hatred.
Back in the 1960s the black population of the Southern parts of the United States were subjugated through terror. There were beatings, shootings and killing.
At night men in robes and hoods would ride through a community and place a burning cross in front of any house that had someone who was getting uppity. It was a chilling warning. If unheeded fire-bombing, shooting and murder would result.
The people were terrified.
But after a while brave members of the community began to raise their heads and demand justice. Many of these were shot or lynched. More came along to take up the cause until there were too many marching for the terror to work anymore.
I salute the bravery of those early black activists and the white activists who came down from the North to support them.
Here’s to Martin Luther King, Medgar Evans, Michael Schwerner, James Earl Chaney and Andrew Goodman and all the hundreds of others who died in that struggle.
The virulent racists of the South were defeated just as the hate-filled Islamic jihadists will be.
The use of slaves was widespread in America though there were some opposition from certain groups. They were used as domestics, artisans or field workers. These Africans were imported via the Arab slave traders in what had become a lucrative trade.
With the American War of Independence slavery was maintained. The Southern States had the greatest numbers as their agricultural practices of growing tobacco, cotton and rice was very labour intensive.
In 1808 an act came in prohibiting the importation of slaves. The Northern States began abolishing slavery. In 1830 abolitionists such as John Brown favoured armed force to foment riots among black slaves. Baptists and Methodists preached for the abolition of slavery.
It all came to a head in 1860 with the civil war. The Northern States renounced slavery and the Southern States supported it. In 1863 Lincoln’s proclamation of Emancipation promised freedom for slaves. At the end of the war in 1865 the proclamation was enforced throughout America and slaves were freed.
Unfortunately that was not the end of the matter. The aftermath of slavery is still felt today with a legacy of racism that pervades many parts of the States. Up until the civil rights movements of the 1960s blacks in the South were not permitted to vote, were forced to use second rate facilities and institutions and treated as second-class citizens. The White Supremacists of the Ku Klux Klan maintained an apartheid system through force and terror.
In the modern age this racism, which still persists, is intolerable.
The hope that the election of a black president signalled the dawn of a new age is still perhaps premature. There is a way to go.
Freedom is won through the bravery of men like Medgar Evans and Martin Luther King and the determined struggle of those white and black activists and people who stood up to be counted, protested and marched despite the intimidation and threats. Many were killed in that struggle. It still is not complete.
You can only have real democracy when you have transparency, fair representation and a vote for every man and woman. That was far from the case two hundred years ago.
Women were denied the vote. Only landowners could vote. Some towns with only a handful of voters were electing two MPs. Two towns electing two MPs each had only 1 eligible voter. Half of the MPs in the House were elected by a mere 154 votes. Cities with hundreds of thousands were grossly underrepresented.
The economic and employment situation in the North was dire and people felt they had no recourse to justice. They had no vote and no representation.
At St. Peter’s field near Manchester between 60,000 and 80,000 gathered to hold a peaceful public meeting and protest. The establishment was rattled. They thought it might develop into a riot, ferment general unrest and lead to a revolution. They banned it. But the protesters still met.
The cavalry were called to charge. People were trampled and slashed with sabres. The crowd was eventually dispersed. They left 11 to 15 dead and over 600 to 700 badly injured – 168 of which were women. The first to be killed was a baby knocked out of his mother’s arms by a charging cavalryman. Witnesses claimed the cavalrymen slashed out indiscriminately at anyone they could. The area was sodden with blood.
It became known as the Peterloo massacre in ironic contrast to the recent battle of Waterloo.
It led to renewed impetus for justice and the Chartist Movement who fought for the right to vote.
Freedoms and rights are not freely given. They are paid for with lives and blood and can so easily be stripped away again.
