Dirty Blues Sunday #1

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche

I had no idea this genre of the Blues existed. I have always loved the Blues. I saw BB King in person from a box near the stage in Madison Square Garden. 

Now, that I know about Dirty Blues, I am going to share some of it with you.

Thomas A. Dorsey

Dirty Blues is about taboo subjects and was played only on jukeboxes. Too dirty for the airwaves. Sex and marijuana?

The Sun is finally shining. I am feeling good. I have to do something until the Bodega opens and I can get some coffee. No one had time to stop at the Reading Terminal Market.

This is Rosetta Howard from Chicago. Singing with Harlem Hamfats. Her songs are still on sale here. In the 1950s she sang with Thomas A. Dorsey at the Pilgrim Baptist Church in Chicago. Both Rosetta Howard and Harlem Hamfats transition between Swing and Blues. Jukebox music. Dancing Music.

78: Decca Sepia Series No.15. Rosetta Howard vocal, accomp. by the Harlem Hamfats

Despite their name, the "Harlem" Hamfats were a Chicago band in the 1930's whose members came from various places; for example, the McCoy brothers hailed from Mississippi, Herb Morand, John Lindsay and Odell Rand were from New Orleans and Horace Malcolm and Freddy Flynn came from Chicago. This is The Weed Smoker's Dream.

Being Neither White Nor Black

CROSS by Langston Hughes

My old man's a white old man
And my old mother's black.
If ever I cursed my white old man
I take my curses back.
If ever I cursed my black old mother
And wished she were in hell,
I'm sorry for that evil wish
And now I wish her well
My old man died in a fine big house.
My ma died in a shack.
I wonder where I'm going to die,
Being neither white nor black? 

 

Sign of the Month - July 2015 - Socialist Snow

Go Bernie!  It's your birthday. Go Bernie!

Burlington Snow written for Bernie Sanders by Allen Ginsberg

Socialist snow on the streets
Socialist talk in the Maverick bookstore
Socialist kids sucking socialist lollipops
Socialist poetry in socialist mouths
—aren’t the birds frozen socialists?
Aren’t the snowclouds blocking the airfield
Social Democratic Appeasement?
Isn’t the socialist sky owned by
the socialist sun?
Earth itself socialist, forests, rivers, lakes
furry mountains, socialist salt
in oceans?
Isn’t this poem socialist? It doesn’t
belong to me anymore.