#protest singers

[my-own-lilypad]

So what'll you do now, my sell-out son?

And what'll you do now, my Kar-da-shian?

I crossed over the line while my colleagues were figh-gh-ting

I made an un-funny joke while children were dy-y-ing

I grabbed longbottom's ass while Beyonce was siii-iiinging

I took private jets while the planet was bur-rr-ning

And it's an acid

It's an acid

It's an acid rain gonna fa-a-all

I make irrelevant films that don't hardly matter

For powerful men and their perverted pa-a-ssions

It's not about me too or black lives that ma-a-tter

It's all about me and my work as an actor

And I swear

I swear

I swear

I sweaaaaar

It's only money I care for at aa-aa-ll

What'll it do now, his am-bi-tion?

[weewilliewinkie]

consistently i am falling in love with folk (protest) singers

[cleopatragirlie]

❀ 𝐉𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐞𝐳 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐲𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐝 (𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖) ❀

[queerprayers]

all I can say is they invented the organ for a reason.

[loumandforyou]

Can someone explain to me why any criticism to Israeli government and to its supporters, is considered antisemitic?

I am genuinely asking. Because I never thought that criticising a government has anything to do with the religion/race/country.

[remembertheplunge]

Beginning of an answer

9/7/2020. Monday 2:08pm 

out front. Espresso’s Coffee House: Pacific Ave, Stockton, Ca

“There were plenty of onlookers, but no witnesses.” In other words, we may log impressive miles in our travels but see nothing: we may follow all the advice in the travel magazines and still feel little enthusiasm.” Page xxi The Art of Pilgrimage

Our pilgrimage has taken us into a Land which Angela Davis said is one that she never experienced before—the confluence of pandemic and protest.

I agree with Angela—its a phenomenon—We have all awakened here on Bali-Hi.

But, as Ms Davis also said, it will pass—the mystical island will recede back into the fog of “normalcy”

Like the travelers described in the Art Of Pilgrimage (above) we have to see it—to embrace it while it is here. I feel fortunate to have lived to see this beginning of an answer—

Angela also said this is not the time to dismantle the police, but, instead, to evolve that institution.

Mavis Staples sings “Gotta change around here, say it loud, say it clear” as I write.

End of entry

Notes: 1/15/2025

Please see photos of the original 9/7/2020 entry in the next blog

Bali-Hi was a mystical island of magic in the musical “South Pacific"

The above journal entry was written in September of 2020 during the Covid Pandemic and the era of the massive George Floyd—Black Lives Matter protests. Angela Davis, a well known civil rights activist during the 1960’s, was acknowledging the power of the people’s movement then. Although she was right that it would pass and the streets would become quite, the Christian Nationalist response is now raging in the form of Trump 2.0

Kat Brooks, who hosts a show on KPFA radio, said yesterday on KPFA Hard Knock that “We are never going to get free in the halls of power. It’s in the streets…"

[folk-enjoyer]

Song of the day

(do you want the history of your favorite folk song? dm me or submit an ask and I'll do a full rundown)

"Alice's Restaurant Massacree" Arlo Guthrie, 1967

this song is hilarious and timeless. It's a classic anti-state/anti-war protest song.

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

War Isn't Murder • Payola • Cancer • The Olympics • God, Abraham, & Xanax • Whistle Boeing • Fat • Fentanyl • Slaves • Happy Easter • News • Trump Trailers • Genocide Cake • Nickelodeon • DuPont • Complain • Boot Straps • Depression • Happy Mother's Day • Misery • Hell

Spotify ♪ YouTube

[thedickcavettshow]

One thing I've noticed is a lot of people who don't really know much about Bob Dylan and have only heard his most popular songs will often use him as a straw man to pit other artists against as a way of making the other artist sound cool but will make up arguments that don't really make any sense if you actually do know anything about Bob Dylan

[phierecycled]

theatre kids actually organise action and genuine resistance instead of suggesting that “we should all gather and sing les mis!” challenge

[theinfinitedivides]

hey quick question how do you have Shah Rukh up for Best Actor in the Filmfares this year TWICE (once for Dunki, once for Jawan) and then do a 180 and pick Ranbir bc he starred in Animal and that f*cker literally just dropped in let me see. December or some sh*t like that. what kind of advanced era of nepotism has Bollywood entered into

[bonepointlight]

roddacember day 1: character, and day 2: place. of course I had to choose verity, and the bone point light

[folk-enjoyer]

National Museum of African American History and Culture, Smithsonian Institute

The Freedom Singers Concert ticket

[mywifeleftme]

316: Toto Bissainthe // Chante Haïti

Chante Haïti Toto Bissainthe 1977, Arion

“These songs are mostly slave songs taken from the Vodou cult. They speak of the quotidian, of the suffering of exile, and the desire of Africa, not as a geographical place but as a mythical land of freedom. They express their resistance and their refusal: resistance to the colonizer, refusal of his politics, of his religion, of his culture, of his language.”

So begins Toto Bissainthe’s statement on the rear of Chante Haïti, her 1977 collaboration with a small combo of Antillean folk and French jazz musicians: vocalists Marie-Claude Benoît and Mariann Mathéus; percussionists Akonio Dolo and Mino Cinélu (Miles Davis, Weather Report, Gong); Patrice Cinélu on acoustic guitar; and Beb Guérin on the double bass. The songs indeed fuse the Vodou ritual of her native Haiti with the European avant garde sounds of her adopted milieu of Paris, where she had moved to pursue acting and found herself a de facto exile due to the political situation back home. Bissainthe had become a prominent figure in the French theatre, performing in new plays by Beckett and Genet and co-founding Les Griots, France’s first Black theatre company; by the late ‘70s, she was an acclaimed recording artist to boot. Her accomplishments made her a prominent figure in the Haitian diaspora and her activist streak is apparent throughout Chante Haïti, explicitly linking the grief and yearning for liberation in these traditional ceremonials with the country’s contemporary struggles.

Like many songs on the album, the Creole words of opener “Soley danmbalab” mourn the people's estrangement from Mother Africa, a crossing which can neither be reversed or repeated. It begins like a field recording, Bissainthe’s soulful, Miriam Makeba-esque voice set to a chorus of rattles and bells and gurgling masculine whispers. As the song develops, her melody wends like a stream through the dense jungle of percussion, dissonant bass, and counterpoint chanting. Eventually, Mino Cinélu’s arrangement becomes more free, the male chorus imploring the Oungan (a male Vodou priest) to intercede with the creator on the people’s behalf as the tune breaks down into an increasingly abstract bass and drum interplay, while the three female singers exchange birdlike vocal improvisations.

“Ibo Ogoun (Variations)” is even wilder, evoking a trance ritual, the spirits speaking in many tongues through the celebrants as they seek to summon Ogun, God of Iron and War, to lead the battle of liberation. One of the male percussionists times his tanbou beat so that it hits just as he sings certain notes, creating the illusion that he voice has suddenly lurched down an octave for a moment, almost like a DJ freaking a vocal sample. Bissainthe, Mathéus, and Benoît match the intense drumming with some crazy syncopations, sometimes talking, sometimes hissing and whispering, sometimes wailing and ululating.

Most of the album takes on a more meditative tact, anchored by Guérin’s plangent double bass. On the smoky “Papadanbalab,” an entreaty to the serpent creator Damballa to bear witness to the penury of his people, Bissainthe sways over a slinky jazz bass line, Patrice Cinélu adding mellow acoustic fusion licks. The song seems like a brief stopover in a Parisian club. But even the less overtly intense tracks pack plenty of musical interest. “Lamize pa dous” has this hypnotic rhythm that sounds exactly like a micro house beat—in fact, the first thing it made me think of was Ricardo Villalobos’ Alcachofa, or Animal Collective at their campfire ravingest. The song is about the moment of surrender to death, the winnowing of time represented by water encroaching on all sides, the realization too late that “we spend our lives trying to fill the sea with stones.”

Listening to a record like this, especially in light of Bissainthe’s note on the back excoriating the colonialist ethnographer who reduces Haitian folklore to “excitement and violence,” requires at least a smidgen of awareness from the white listener that Chante Haïti is not intended for them. The traditions it engages with are of deep spiritual significance to many Haitians, both in the ‘70s and today. But for those inside and outside the culture who are willing to approach it with respect, Chante Haïti is a fascinating fusion of Antillean and European musics, and a peek into a profound and secret history.

316/365

[cosmogyros]

Okay that's actually a little bit cool. My highest ranking ever in the SoundClick charts was #53 with "Dawn and Catastrophe", whose production was a lot better, so I'm honestly impressed that my scrappy bedroom demo of "Seven" made it into the top 100 this week. I'm not sure how many artists I'm competing against there – I scrolled down to try to reach the end of the Acoustic chart, but gave up once I got past about #900 or so.

To be fair, probably many of those songs rank lower because they don't have any listens at all, I imagine. I don't have that many listens myself. But at least I've got a few fans who do regularly support me by listening and sharing, and that means a lot <3

Seven

Seven years to go Seven, that’s what they told me My brother, I write letters But I’m scared I might run out of words

Seven flights of stairs I run to the top, but you’re not there anymore My brother, why’d you have to go? There’s got to be more, a reason, I don’t know

I try to piece together the story From the clippings on the floor Did you do it for the glory Or for the war?

You used to say that they could never force us out Never break apart our family, there’s no doubt They wouldn’t have a leg to stand on You said with that laughing smile But now our home stands empty They didn’t even want to fill it! So what for? I hope you did it for the war

Seven stories high Seven broken windows reveal the steel sky Why’d you do it? Were you trying to take a stand? Protect your people, both feet on borrowed land

Seven empty floors No hearts beating behind these doors No one sheltering below that hallowed roof Did you do it for the truth?