Theo: An Autobiography

14: I Sing and I’ll Keep Singing

Je chaute si je c"ante I sing and I'll keep singing Pour qui veut rn'eCOHter To all who'11 listen to tne Je chante, .ie m'invente With words that are stinging Une autre verite As all truth has to be Elle sel1lble utopique I'll make I11usic a measure Elle existe pourta1lt To tell right from wrong Je fa nlcts en Inusique To give pain and give pleasure Pour fa dire en cllantant. And I'll do it in song. I sing of the great promise Which nobody will keep, Of a wish for noble dreanling When there's only dreamless sleep. I sing of desperation and I've never known despair Of hope and expectation When there's hardly any there. -GEOR.GES MOUSTAKI © 1975 ENGLISH ADAPTATION T. BIKEL I:N THE BEGINNING I WAS DRAWN TO folk music because of its storytelling aspect, because this was the musical tradition I was brought up in, and maybe also because my musical aptitude did not extend to more involved and sophisticated styles. Had it not been for folk songs I ll1ight soon have becoll1e a ll1an out of his till1e and place. I stayed around for a long, long tinle in the ll1idst of 1110vell1ents that Inandated contacts not only with civil rights workers and labor, but with people ll1any years younger than I. As a political liberal, I would have been involved with allies in the Inovell1ent anyway, but because of the ll1usic I could do it without regard to any generation gap. Folk ll1usic ll1ade possible a fusion bet\veen the artist and activist in 111e. Back in the sixties, there were several nlajor songwriters \vho dealt specifically with political events. One was Tom Paxton, who still continues to be extraordinarily productive, albeit not exclusively in the broadside vein. Another was a young nlan nall1ed Phil Ochs. Phil's pain from what he read and saw resulted in a prolific flow of lyrics froll1 his pen and of ll1usic froll1 his guitar. He would COllIe to ll1Y apartnlent and sing for nle his latest songs. I was often struck by the thought that he could not possibly keep on with these raw feelings without psychologically cOll1ing to grief. Little did I know that he would COlne to even greater harnl than that. Occasionally I would sing his songs to people who were not fanliliar with Phil Ochs and the songs lnade quite an ill1pact. One till1e I was a guest in Senator Gaylord Nelson's house in Maryland when Hubert Hunlphrey canle to visit. I decided to Sillg Phil's song "I Ain't Marchin' Anynl0re" and wondered how the guests would take it. They applauded heartily, but I also saw some disturbed looks in their eyes, as though I had broached a subject that might better have been avoided in polite society. With till1e Phil Ochs became ell1bittered. Perhaps one should have had an inkling of what was going through his Blind when, S0111etime around 1964, with John Kennedy dead and buried, he said to Bob Dylan, "Politics, it's all bullshit, man. That's all it is. If s0111ebody was to tell the truth, they're gonna be killed." Phil Ochs was a nlan who had drealns and a vision of a just society. Then he gave up on the dreanl and went and took his own life. He was right to have had the dream: How tragic that he lost it. We all treat grief in different fashions. The day JFK was shot, I arrived in Boston after an overnight flight fronl California, preparing to do a concert that evening. Mike Scott, nlY road manager, called nlY roonl and told me to switch on the TV. I will not describe the horror; every single one of us who lived through those hours has his own recollection of thenl, if he has not blotted it out of his menlory as I did for a long time. But we also had a decision to nlake. Manny Greenhill, the local promoter, called to consult with nle on what to do about the concert. Should we cancel, and if we did, how could we notify patrons in such a short tinle? I told him to meet me at the hall an hour before the announced start and we would decide then. Around seven 0'clock I went to the concert hall and saw...