Saturday Night

Savoy Brown - Can't Get Next To You

An Anthem

We need songs. I'm not all that crazy about the style, but this thing carries the spirit of defiance that has to be there.

Rising early in the morning, feel the whistle's mournful cry
Steel-toed boots and a heavy heart, but I keep my head held high
Down the line, the bosses whisper ‘bout fortunes that ain’t mine
But these calloused hands and a soul of pride, ain’t gonna toe their line

So stand tall, brother, we’re stronger than they know
Can’t crush the working spirit, they'll reap what they sow
The truth is in our voices, in the mud beneath our feet
We’re the backbone of this country, and we won’t accept defeat

See those suits in the towers, counting cash on their golden thrones
Making laws to keep us down, while they worship what they own
But I see hope in the union hall, feel the fire in the street
‘Cause every time they push us down, we get back on our feet

Stand tall, sister, don’t you let them steal your song
Raise your fists up high and tell them they were wrong
They can choke us with their power, try to cage a wild heart
But the thunder’s rolling closer, and we’ll tear it all apart

They build their fuckin' walls, but we got truth and grit
We all stand together, we ain't taking no more shit
So light the torch of freedom, let the river wash us clean
We’re the sons and daughters rising, tearing through the machine

Stand tall, brother, side by side we march along
With love for one another, we’re unbreakable, we’re strong
We’re the blood that runs this engine, we’re the hands that sow the seeds
Let the leaders hear our thunder, hear the working people’s creed

Jesse

Today's Tune

We all got the same damned god

We just call it different names

A Tune

A Birthday

Rosetta Tharpe

Sister Rosetta Tharpe (born Rosetta Nubin, March 20, 1915 – October 9, 1973, was an American singer, songwriter and guitarist. She gained popularity in the 1930s and 1940s with her gospel recordings, characterized by a unique mixture of spiritual lyrics and electric guitar. She was the first great recording star of gospel music, and was among the first gospel musicians to appeal to rhythm and blues and rock and roll audiences, later being referred to as "the original soul sister" and "the Godmother of rock and roll". She influenced early rock-and-roll musicians, including Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, and also later guitarists, such as Eric Clapton.

Tharpe was a pioneer in her guitar technique; she was among the first popular recording artists to use heavy distortion on her electric guitar, opening the way to the rise of electric blues. Her guitar-playing technique had a profound influence on the development of British blues in the 1960s. Her European tour with Muddy Waters in 1964, with a stop in Manchester on May 7, is cited by British guitarists such as Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and Keith Richards.

Willing to cross the line between sacred and secular by performing her music of "light" in the "darkness" of nightclubs and concert halls with big bands behind her, Tharpe pushed spiritual music into the mainstream and helped pioneer the rise of pop-gospel, beginning in 1938 with the recording "Rock Me" and with her 1939 hit "This Train". Her unique music left a lasting mark on more conventional gospel artists such as Ira Tucker Sr., of the Dixie Hummingbirds. While controversial among conservative religious groups due to her forays into the pop world, she never left gospel music.

Tharpe's 1944 release "Down by the Riverside" was selected for the National Recording Registry of the U.S. Library of Congress in 2004, which noted that it "captures her spirited guitar playing and unique vocal style, demonstrating clearly her influence on early rhythm-and-blues performers" and cited her influence on "many gospel, jazz, and rock artists". ("Down by the Riverside" was recorded by Tharpe on December 2, 1948, in New York City, and issued as Decca single 48106). Her 1945 hit "Strange Things Happening Every Day", recorded in late 1944, featured Tharpe's vocals and resonator guitar, with Sammy Price (piano), bass and drums. It was the first gospel record to cross over, hitting no. 2 on the Billboard "race records" chart, the term then used for what later became the R&B chart, in April 1945. The recording has been cited as a precursor of rock and roll, and alternatively has been called the first rock and roll record. In May 2018, Tharpe was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as an Early Influence.

Sunday Tune

Hand me down that wall guitar

Pull your chairs around

I sing the sads one real good now

Since you said goodbye

Today's Tune

The Money Game, parts 1 - 3 --Ren Gill

Strange times we're living in

World can put fear in ya

Hierarchy parties, they make us feel inferior

Greed runs through the parliament interior

Devils walk among us, they fit the criteria

Eerie theories strike fear in weary minded men

When we're clearly living in dictatorships

Nearly blinded by illusions to choose

But who's fooling who?

A ball chained to your shoes

I'm pained, it's a crying shame

The pursuit of our own wealth lights a flame

That makes greed a game that lets the whole world burn

As the world turns, the whole world burns

Money was invented for trade

But now those bits of paper twist hearts, make slaves

Turns a saint into a sinner, a child into a killer

His finger on the trigger of a money game

Oh, rain, rain, rain, rain

A storm, it comes our way

And those who rise through distorted lies

Poison in the veins

But we like to point the blame, blame, blame, blame

It's easier to blame

But point the mirror at ourselves

We're all part of this old money game

This old money game

This old

Dear Mr. President, it's evident that everyone's a resident

Of fear when they support the ideas that keep us separate

When they make us believe that everybody

Is coming to terrorise you in the streets

They say proudly through gritted teeth

"It's my right to hate, that's freedom of speech!"

When did freedom become a reason to hate?

A way to justify a racial slur or insult we make

There's an irony in freedom, because us in the west

We have pillaged and plundered and murdered like savages

Colonised all of the rest, that's called hypocrisy

Preach a certain value that you'd never keep yourselves

If your country was in flames, you'd emigrate yourselves in a second

Still, you spit your venom, demonising immigrants

When really, you're an immigrant

'Cause all of us are immigrants

Or descended from immigrants

The irony is imminent, I'll shed the light on immigrants

America was colonised by Britain

Britain, it was colonised by Rome

Also, colonised by the Saxons

They were German, by the way

You know how people throw shade upon the Germans

'Cause of history's pain

And yet we make the same mistakes all again

Demonise a whole people, Jewish or Muslim the same and the same

Old situations play on repeat

The same old TV shows repeat

Yeah, we worship the bleak

Our opinions aren't our own and we follow like sheep

There's no left, there's no right

In the middle we sleep

Rain, rain, rain, rain

A storm, it comes our way

And those who rise through distorted lies

Poison in the veins

But we like to point the blame, blame, blame, blame

It's easier to blame

But point the mirror at ourselves

We're all part of this old money game

This old money game

This old money game

PART 2

Strange times we're living in, panic and hysteria

Poor man learn the rich man don't care for ya

Narcissist mindsets spread like malaria

Sit back and watch the show, America!

Britain split through fickle shit

A government of hypocrites

These counterfeit politicians sit

In parliament, not adequate

Needlessly bleeding resources all dry

Turn a blind eye if it means a pay rise

"Oh what a shame it would be I would die"

If Number 10 Downing Street burned in a fire

Only joking, only messing, don't be stressing

I'm a peaceful adolescent, there's no need to be unpleasant

Write my thesis in a rhyme scheme

To analyze the brain

While my fingers on the trigger of a money game

Oh Ren, Ren, Ren, Ren

A storm, it comes our way

And those who rise through distorted lies

Poisoning the veins

But we like to point the blame, blame, blame, blame

It's easier to blame

But point the mirror at ourselves

We're all part of this old money game

(This old money game)

(This old)

Money is a game and the ladder we climb

Turns a saint into a sinner with his finger in crime

I'll break it down for you motherfuckers line by line

This is business economics in a nursery rhyme

She sells seashells on a seashore

But the value of these shells will fall

Due to the laws of supply and demand

No one wants to buy shells 'cause there's loads on the sand

Step 1, you must create a sense of scarcity

Shells will sell much better if the people think they're rare, you see

Bare with me, take as many shells as you can find and hide 'em on an island stockpile 'em high until they're rarer than a diamond

Step 2, you gotta make the people think that they want 'em

Really want 'em, really fuckin want 'em

Hit 'em like Bronson

Influencers, product placement, featured prime time entertainment

If you haven't got a shell then you're just a fucking waste man

Three, it's monopoly, invest inside some property, start a corporation, make a logo, do it properly

"Shells must sell", that will be your new philosophy

Swallow all your morals they're a poor man's quality

Four, expand, expand, expand, clear forest, make land, fresh blood on hand

Five, why just shells? Why limit yourself? She sells seashells, sell oil as well!

Six, guns, sell stocks, sell diamonds, sell rocks, sell water to a fish, sell the time to a clock

Seven, press on the gas, take your foot off the brakes,

Run to be the president of the United States

Eight, big smile mate, big wave that's great

Now the truth is overrated, tell lies out the gate

Nine, Polarize the people, controversy is the game

It don't matter if they hate you if they all say your name

Ten, the world is yours, step out on a stage to a round of applause

You're a liar, a cheat, a devil, a whore

And you sell seashells on the seashore

Ren, Ren, Ren, Ren

A storm, it comes our way

And those who rise through distorted lies

Poisoning the veins

But we like to point the blame, blame, blame, blame It's easier to blame

But point the mirror at ourselves

We're all part of this old money game

(This old money game)

(This old)

PART 3

Let me tell you a story about a boy named Jimmy

One years old and his first words were mine, mine gimme

Two years old, he was walking, three years old, walking quickly

Four years old, he was running around the pavements of his city

Five years old, and his daddy told him, listen here son, you've got to learn to be a man

A man he works for what he wants

Six years old, and he's reading, writing, top of the bunch

And when he's seven, his progression made him student number one

Eight years old and he's praised for unusual grades

Nine, his parents pay for private school to nurture the flame

10, 11, 12, 13, he ascends and ascends, his daddy tells him, son, money is the means to all ends

14 solving complex mathematic equations, at 15, IQ 150, still elevating

16 he develops complex software code that detects weaknesses in cyber security protocol

17, and he sells his vision, keeping the share, not yet an adult

But he's practically a millionaire

18, and his daddy tells him now you're a man the world don't give a damn about you

So take all that you can

19, he turns a profit, stocks and shares, invest in product

20, double down deposits 21, his income rockets

22, he learns that truth is just an obstacle to wealth

If you manipulate the data, then the lie will sell itself

23, a life of luxury Crystal and cocaine

24, he makes the Forbes list, they're applauding his name

25, and his daddy told him, listen here, son, while you're sitting in the palace

That don't mean that you won

26, his business shifts, he switches business to arms

He's 27, dealing nuclear shells in Iran

28, inside the Senate, money bought him a seat

He's 29, role of counsel in the president suite

And now he's 30, his daddy says, you're losing the race

You're just a servant to the king, not even in second place

31, a big maneuver for his daddy's approval

Moving imports over borders from the exports out of Cuba

32, moving grams, growing kilo to tons

He's 33, filling warehouses with powder and guns

34, turf war with nobody to stop it, blind eye from the Po Po inside of his pocket

35, he gets a call, I'm sorry, son, but it's your father, had a heart attack

I'm sorry, he's gone

36, getting pissed off abusing this product

37, eyes glazed, disposition demonic

38, with a prostitute, a moment of passion

Heating up the silver spoon and then chasing the dragon

39, getting reckless and hungry for power

Daddy's words still driving him to kill him and devour

He makes a move against the cartel, but the strategy's flawed

They retaliate and leave him in the hospital ward

A bullet buried in his vertebra, and one in his leg

The doctor sighs and says, I don't think you'll be walking again, fuck

Let me tell you a story about a boy named Jimmy

He was 40 and he cursed the words mine, mine gimme

41, he wasn't walking,

42, not walking quickly,

43, Never running round the pavements of his city

44 inside a palace with a mountain of gold

But those riches turn to rubble when perspective evolves

Weighing heavy on his conscience is the value of gold, Lamborghini for a life

Trading money for souls, Jimmy followed the code inside the land of the free

Put your hand inside the cookie jar, take more than you need

And his example is exaggerated versions of me, and it's a version of him

And it's a version of she, and it's a version of you

There's no escaping the blame, the way we live, it's parasitic

Fuck the money and fame, cut the music

This isn't entertainment, this is real life, the way we live is lunacy, community it declines

We're hyperpolarized, we're always fighting and we divide

Truth is less important than the money that we designed?

Money's an invention, politics from our invention, they all come from people's ideas

Did I mention, border's an invention

Law and order fuels the tension that leads to people killing each other

My solution?

Everything is subject to change

We could build utopias if individuals were taught to use their brains

But if we teach kids in schools to always be sheep and put themselves before the herd

If there's more money for meat

Then there's no future I see where the humans survive

We're parasites inside the Petri dish, with cannibal minds

Mold will grow upon the surface, then consumes 'til it dies

And our fate could be the same without this story to the wise

45, Jimmy comes home out of the rain, soaking wet upon a wheelchair

Drinking again, he has everything he wants, he has fortune and fame

Such a fortunate fool with an unfortunate fate with a 45 caliber aimed at his brain

45, a fitting number because his age is the same

Here's the words of his father, it's such a damn shame

Then he presses on the trigger of a money game

Today's Tune

Michael Ruff and John Cruz

What Good Am I?

Time For A Chestnut

Atheist Christmas Carol --Vienna Teng

It's the season of grace coming out of the void

Where a man is saved by a voice in the distance

It's the season of possible miracle cures

Where hope is currency and death is not the last unknown

Where time begins to fade

And age is welcome home

It's the season of eyes meeting over the noise

And holding fast with sharp realization

It's the season of cold making warmth a divine intervention

You are safe here you know now

Don't forget I love you

It's the season of scars and of wounds in the heart

Of feeling the full weight of our burdens

It's the season of bowing our heads in the wind

And knowing we are not alone in fear

Not alone in the dark

Don't forget I love

New Tune

And possibly the birth of a new music genre: CEO Death Folk (?)

A Joyful Noise

I never get tired of the music.

Tim Waurick

Elle & Toni

Another Tune

Carsie Blanton, live at Red Rocks

Rich People

From 8 Years Ago

A piece written by Sara Bareilles, and performed by Leslie Odom Jr.

..with

Lee Nadel, bass

Jonathan Dinklage, violin

Adele Stein, cello

Todd Low, viola

Antoine Silverman, violin2

Derik Lee, recording and mixing

Emily Grishman, music copyist

Imagine what President Obama might be thinking about the 2016 election and Donald Trump, but can’t say publicly.

Y'Know What?

I just wanna tell MAGA to fuck off. 

Take all your manufactured WWE melodrama and shove the whole thing up your ass.

Let's just relax and be groovy. Can we try that for a while?

A Tune

Makes me cry

A Tune

I'll see your Linda Ronstadt, and raise one Eva Cassidy

It makes me cry.

Today's Homemade Tune

IDK who this guy is, but he makes it sound pretty good.

Adikara Fardy

On This Day

Happy Woodstock Anniversary everybody

55 years ago

Richie Havens was mesmerizing.