I’d been listening to Woody Guthrie on a loop, beguiled by his troubadour cowboy lifestyle, popular songs with socialist themes, and conspicuous anti-fascist stance. Who would have thought he’d be so relevant again.
Talkin’ Woody Guthrie Blues is my attempt at emulating Woody’s guitar technique.
The lyrics are vignettes, glimpses of sensitivities, situations, retrospections from early teenage wilderness and awakening, through family dysfunction, travelling revelations and tragedies to acceptance and awareness of things as they are.
The recording was made, perhaps 12 or 13 years after writing it. I was adamant that it should be recorded live, to have an authentic folky mood about it. So, apart from the sparse backing vocals it’s just me with my old beat-up, cheap Westfield acoustic, singing and playing the song through SM58s at mouth and soundhole. It probably took four or five goes before getting adequate levels. To make the guitar sound brighter I used a plectrum, but usually finger pick it. I could play it better but that’s not really the point.
The chords and finger-picking are C, F, C, G, C.
Lyrics
We jumped into the river
Beyond the secret pool
The crumbling bridge above us
And the waters sparkling jewels
I was drowning
Whilst screaming like a mute
But when I came up for air
You were gone
I can’t dispute
I’m lying on my bed
In the depth of Wintertime
And all that once was shining
Is coated in grime
Oh lies and death
True as the burning sun
Less easy to forget
When all’s been said and all is done
An old man reads my palm
In a shack up in the mountain
My head’s in a rain-soaked cloud
His wisdom like the fountain
I don’t know who I am
I can’t see the way I’m going
But just now I’m sitting here
For tomorrow, there’s no knowing
Jimmy’s leaning out the window
Now he’s lying on the rails
His life will never be the same
And mine will seem so frail
But the little man
Whose smile engulfs the world
Kept my head above the water
And in a shell, put a pearl
There is no meaning to this song
The journey’s what it is
I want to get back home again
There’s the bus I’m going to miss
Oh beautiful eyes
And hands to heal the pain
Walk me through the long valley
Show me love that never wains
Graphic by Colm Mac Aodhagáin.
Written, produced and recorded by The Suns Of Albert in a Seafield flat on a Mac Book Pro (2012), an Mbox 2 Pro A/D, and Adobe Audition CS6.