Who pays for this war?

who pays for this war
does everybody pay for this war
old money family designs
private schools and blood lines
do they pay for this war
how about the corporate execs
and their banker buddies cuttin’ the checks
do they pay for this war

who pays for this war
do the rich people pay for this war
Donald Trump and his confidantes
eatin’ in the thousand dollar restaurants
do they pay for this war
palace suite in the big hotel
how about Halliburton and Bechtel
do they pay for this war

who pays for this war
do the generals pay for this war
spit-polished brass-jockey climbin’ the ranks
Colin Powell and Tommy Franks
do they pay for this war
logical players in the Great Game
career movers stakin’ their claims
do they pay for this war

who pays for this war
I’ll tell you who pays for this war
some homeless Vietnam vet
when they cut off the social safety net
to pay for this war
some single mother in welfare duress
when they tell her she’s just gonna have to do with less
to pay for this war
some teenage innocent who joined in the fight
gonna have nightmares now for the rest of his life
to pay for this war
and a whole lot of people way over there
who got caught in the cross hairs
to pay for this war
that’s who pays for this war

so don’t give me that hypocracy
about makin’ the world safe for democracy
white bread money and brown blood soup
ain’t it always the same that way
the people without any power have to die
for the people with the big powerful lie

Back To Sunny Weather

We’re back to sunny weather again. I don’t know what’s up with that but its enjoyable while its here. People say things like, “this isn’t normal for Seattle.” But if I’ve learned anything in the 35 years I’ve been here its that there is no “normal” weather. I remember in the old days if it started raining hard I would just stand under a doorway overhang and wait for it to pass. It always did. And I recall the Satsop Rock Festival way back in 71 or 72 when I was on stage for over an hour because one of the sound companies was on strike – nobody could plug in any instruments but the microphones worked. Anyway, it was raining and people were all wet and covered with mud. And from the stage I could see that the clouds were broken and that the break was coming our way. It was way off behind the audience. So I got everybody singing “stop the rain, stop the rain,” and we all kept it up until that break came overhead and the rain stopped. For years I was remembered as the guy with the magical powers who made the sun come out. I think that’s how religions are started.

Jim Hinde’s son Nate got clobbered down in Pioneer Square last Friday night. After the bars closed, making it actually Saturday morning. He was there with his buddies just doing what young buddies do. Tons of people milling around, drink, smoke, whatever. One of them winds up on the pavement stones being pummeled by a stranger and Nate jumps in to break it up. Somebody comes in from the side with an iron bar or a pipe or a set of brass knuckles and Nate winds up in the hospital with a caved in face. Brain surgery to take the bone fragments out, reconstructive surgery to give him his shape back. He’s out now. Stitches on his head like Karloff in that big monster suit.

What’s going on anyway?

I guess I’m one of those people who don’t allow for the random theory of human events. Things happen for a reason and I don’t mean like god or karma or any of that. I mean that with all the ugly muscle posturing that my country is doing these days it only makes sense that there would be more of this down on the ground. Ever see a Hummer go by? Arrogant, aren’t they? Militaristic. Costs a fortune of stolen money to own one. I walked up to a guy driving one last summer – it was bright yellow and he was going through the Market where the traffic is real slow. I caught his eye. “Kinda like driving your wallet, isn’t it?” He didn’t respond.

It seems to me that if you engineer a system to tempt everybody with the glitter and flash of the fast cars and the fast money and the fast sex, and then only let a few of us actually get it, you’re going to have trouble. Mean, angry chips on disillusioned shoulders. Nothing more dangerous than a dead ender with nothing to look forward to and a feeling that he’s been lied to. And that the liar is laughing at him. It’s enough to make you just want to go out and break a few heads. That’s what the Army does.

Or you could get smart, put some thinking into that rage. And that’s a whole other paradigm that I think we’ll get to before too long. We have to, there’s no other way.

I’m reading Danny Morrison’s book “Then the Walls Came Down.” It’s his prison letters from inside Long Kesh. Its wonderful, they’re so human and full of life. Danny’s Northern Irish, Belfast, and I know him from the old days. He was publicity director for Sinn Fein and spent five years at her majesty’s pleasure for republican activities, from 1990 to 1995. He’s an author now with several titles to his credit. We recently reconnected via the internet. I sent him a few CDs and he sent me some books. I like knowing people who have accomplished things in their lives. In some ways I think the world is like a workshop, its just that we don’t all have access to all the tools. That has to be addressed.

Rain Again

rain again
not the torrents of Midwest drenchings
but the simple seepage, from cloud mist to ground soak
- grayness hunkers over the far mountains
and the winds blow wet with distance
this is the real autumn of the upper wet left coast

this good seeping rain
that feeds all our roots
and washes the residual grudge
from yesterday’s bad start

in days to come
there will be storm clouds of weather
against the gray mountains
there will be white snows on sunset peaks
in days to come
there will be long, deep and interminable darknesses
bringing all the shadows of emotion
in days to come
we will hunker down and get real close
riding on the bare back the beast itself
in days to come
it will rise
and we will also rise
and we will dare
and we will be face to face
and we may win
and we may not
but we will
and we will again
in days to come

After the busker fest

9-20-2006

Seattle has returned to its roots. The weather comes down low and hugs the ground, soft gray rolling wetness covers everything with a sheen that glistens into itself. Its not exactly raining and its too slow and gentle for drizzle. I call it seeping. The sky seeps on a day like this. Magic.

Well, it took me a couple of days to recover form the festival. It was a good burn. I had to be there at 7 in the morning to start setting up and I had things going the night before so I didn't get to bed until 1 am. I set the alarm for 5 but of course sleep wouldn't come for long and I kept waking up all night. I was excited. So I got up at 4, made the coffee, fixed the breakfast, checked on the weather, and got ready for the day. I had packed up the car the night before so all I really had to do was get in and drive.

I had two of the hats - the big ones that Niceol had made for the first festival five years ago. She made them out of plastic buckets and covered them with black duct tape, fixing brims onto them also with tape. They look like enormous top hats and they're supposed to be set up in front of each stage. Jim Hinde had the other one.

I had one of the dry erase boards for announcing the acts. I had the fabric to hang behind the south stage, plus the fasteners to hang it with. I had the table cloth for the merchandise table. I had a rug for the north stage where I would be sharing MC duties. I had my guitar (duh) and CDs. And I had coats and hats and my boots in case it got real rainy.

Things actually went quite smoothly. We all know how to do it now - how to set up the canopies, outline the stages, set the sound. It's an established event and the city has embraced it. The official starting time was 11 but there were some acts that started early. I had my digital camera and ran around all day taking pictures of everything. I would introduce someone on the north stage, go out in front and take a few shots, and then run down to the middle or Post Alley stage and shoot, and then down to the south stage and shoot, and then head back to emcee the act off stage and the next one on. As I had had only about 2 and a half hours sleep the night before it was a good idea to keep moving so I wouldn't pass out.

Jim Hinde had set up his sound system and his son Nate ran it most of the time. Jim and I shared emcee duties. Every stage had at least two people at it. My set was at 3:00 and I was ready - floating in that sleep deprivation space where everything is artistic and there are no mistakes. My buddy Joe Martin came down and played harmonica with me on three songs. The sets were 25 minutes long so I only had 5 songs all together. Joe is a social worker and one of the founders of the Pike Market Clinic. It only seems right that a festival celebrating the Market and the return of Seattle to itself would have Joe there. People seemed to like what we did - we finished with an improv piece about the festival and Seattle. Niceol was there with her parents who, she says, are religious conservatives - though I think her language might be stronger. They liked some of my stuff, not all of it. Which is normal.

We had good crowds all day and no complaints. Breaking down at the end was a little sad but welcome as well. It meant that I would soon be able to go to sleep. Of course that was not to happen right away as Jim and friends had arranged for us all to go out to dinner near their house - which is on the other side of town from mine. That meant loading the gear, then unloading it at their place, then going to the cafe, then waiting to get in, then ordering, eating, paying, going back to their place, and me driving back to mine. By the time I lay down I was really too tired to sleep and I tossed around all night.

But damn! What a gas. Anybody reading this who does street performing, if you want to come down and be a part of it next year, just remember: next year it will be September 16th. Go to the Guild site http://pikemarketbuskers.org/ and get an application. They should be on line by April or May. You have to actually be a street performer - this is not a showcase for up and coming bands. But do apply and do come to the festival. And hey, come down early at 7 am - we could use the help.

Echoes Of Dawn

September 16th

Dawn slips in and starts making noise pretty early these days. No use trying to sleep once you've decided not to anymore so I get up. This house sits on a ravine where a street should be, at least on paper. Squirrels, rats, possum, lots a birds. Sometimes they sound pretty big, like a bear or something, an animal truck on fur wheels driving around on the roof. It rains sometimes when I'm sleeping so I don't hear it but I wake up to the wet and the glisten of fresh wet.

There's a a community radio conference in town today. I'm doing a panel on the importance of community radio to the independent musician. Duh. As if that even needs to be addressed. Sometimes I think these things are put together like a weekend with the family - a reason for everybody to hang out. Anyway, it'll be interesting. There's three of us on the panel: me, a rapper named Silver Shadow, and a jazz singer named Datri Bean. It'll be worth it just to meet them: different circles, different songs. Then later on Amy Goodman shows up and dose a talk at Town Hall. I've known Amy for a number of years now and have dropped in on her New York studio. She plays my music from time to time. I'm not scheduled to play anything at her gig tonight bu you never know. She might make a request so I'll have my guitar just in case. The organizers have decided that they don't want another "white male" with a guitar so I don't think anybody's doing anything. But if Amy makes a request, then... You get the picture.

Gotta get my ticket to Taipei today. They'll reimburse me on the other side when I get there. It'll cost about $850. I was going to give that money to FASTRAX for CD manufacture but I'll have to put that off. Money. Isn't it great? It's an historical (hysterical) social agreement that people kill each other for. One of these days we'll change our minds and send those bankers packing. Until then, hey buddy, can you spare a eight hundred and fifty dollars?

Did a little digging last night to see how Ward Churchill is doing. Ward's the UC Boulder prof who got in all that trouble for saying the obvious: that there were reasons why those people flew those airplanes into the Trade Towers. He used the term "little Eichmanns," assuming that everybody knew who Eichmann was. They didn't of course, and everybody got mad. The right wingers wanted his head on a platter. Still do. I've known Ward for 20 years. I played at his wedding. And just to make things simple: all Eichmann ever did was sign the papers to put the Jews on the railroad trains. Period. Bureaucracy. That's all. A system wherein everybody can say, "I didn't do it." "This is just my job." That was just his job. So if you want to find out what's going on with Ward check out this link: http://www.wardchurchill.net/ And for god's sake, think for yourself....

Gotta get going. Try to get some more CDs from the manufacturer. Spread them around at the conference. Sell some tomorrow at the Busker Festival. Come on down - it'll be a blast!

Crunch Time

September 15th

Friday.... The Busker festival is only two days away. This is the crunch. I am waiting minute by minute for a call from the radio station that we might get to go on air and do a little promo. After all this is the only city with an official Buskers' Week and also the only city with a festival run by the buskers themselves. We'll all meet down there at 7 am on Sunday and start to put things together. Two sound stages and one acoustic. 39 acts. There's a 350 pound planter that needs to be moved for the acoustic stage - I'm sitting that one out as I almost threw my back out on it last year. Sound systems need to be set up for the other two stages - north and south.. Canopies, merchandise tables, benches for the audience. Each stage has two emcees. I'll tade off on the north stage with Jim Hinde, Lance Tigner and Niceol Blue are doing the acoustic Post Alley Stage, and Emery Carl and one other (don't know who) are doing the south stage. This is the fifth annual so I expect a good turnout. It's free and everyone seems to enjoy it.

The weather around here is starting to turn, with gray clouds coming in and hanging around all day, and a good watery breeze chilling the early morning. The ocean is just a stone's throw away and that's part of the beauty of this place. That great big salt water sound that comes down through all the islands and lazily washes up to the piers. The mountains off to the west with the ocean behind them. It's getting dark earlier every day it seems and pretty soon it'll be wood burning time and dark at 5 o'clock. It'll stay that way for ages and then sometime next year it'll break, and a brand new flower will emerge from the wood pile. And it will be spring again.

So I have to be ready for the radio today, it may and may not happen. Everything else that can be done has been done. PSAs, posters, mailing lists. Crossing our fingers and rolling with it. Hope it doesn't rain.

My set it on the north stage at 3. Joe Martin is going to come down with his sons John and Brendan. I give them guitar lessons every week or so. Joe's an old friend, a social worker and founder of the Pike Market Clinic. He's Boston Irish, plays the harmonica and knows a million rebel songs. I asked him to bring his harps. If he's coming down anyway maybe he'd want to jump up on stage with me and play a few tunes. He has agreed.

I don't have a deity but if I did I'd pray for good weather.

Nothin Much To Say

September 8

Sometimes there's nothing much to say so you don't say much. That's okay, isn't it? I saw Bob Dylan on TV last night doing an iPod commercial. He was sitting on a stool wearing that strange Zorro suit that he likes and singing a blues song, solo acoustic. Right there off to the side, in front, and at times almost on top of him, was a liquid and lithesome raven-haired beauty undulating in dusky sexual trance dance and holding an iPod, it's white mellenial wiring glowing up to her ears. It was very strange. I wish I could have seen the Victoria's Secret commercial that he did last year. Way to go Bob. The Times They Have A-Changed.

Saw some soldiers going through the Pike Market this afternoon. They all seemed to be in their thirties. I wanted to go up to them and say, "You don't have to go. We will help you if you refuse. Just say no." But in these times that's probably a federal offence, like interfering with a police officer only more so. I saw one blond haired thirty something woman hoot and give a big wave and say, "You guys are the best! Love you!" I wondered what they were actually doing that made them so good. Sitting at a desk in Fort Lewis? I don't think its smart to jump to rapid fire conclusions like that.

Artis and I went around to a few businesses today at the Market getting some last minute sponsorships for the festival. It's happening next weekend on the 17th. Buskers' Week starts on Monday. Seattle is the only city in the country that has a Buskers' Week. How about that! Eat that one, Paul Allen! Emery carl - the skinny tall man who balances guitars on his chin while doing hoola hoops, yeah that guy - and myself, and Artis are going to go around town that week and play at different places, pass pout flyers, do a signboard thing. I think that Buskers' week is something to be proud of, and so is the festival. And so is the fact that we have done so much with what we had.

Speaking of Paul Allen.... No, I'd rather not. I'll let this go for now. Sometimes there's just not much to say.

Summer slows down

September 5


Bonnie Raitt was in town last Sunday. Its always good to see her - she's so normal. She's a great singer and fabulous slide guitar player - her band kicks real serious stuff and she has a wonderful connection with the audience. But she's normal. Get her off stage and she's normal - just someone you could hang out with. I've known her since about 1979 when she came up to me while I was writing a letter outside a studio complex in LA. I think it was called The Crossroads Of the World, or something like that, and there was a statue with no arms, and I was writing about how that statue would probably like it if his body was finished, when a pretty red haired woman came right up and sat down and said, "Hi, I'm Bonnie Raitt. I'm a fan." There were some tapes of me floating around and she got a hold of one. I barely knew who she was so I probably changed the subject or said thank you, its been too long to remember. But we've know each other since then. She's a great writer too. She's all around smart and talented. And she works all the time. That woman is not lazy!

I had comp tickets and back stage passes so I asked Niceol Blue if she would want to go. Niceol is part of our Buskers' Guild. She was the chair for two years running. She said yes, of course, but could she bring her girlfriend Orla. Fine with me but I only had one extra ticket. Not to worry, Orla assured me, she had good luck with this sort of thing most of the time. I won't go into details but it was all good to go all the way through. And we all got to hang out later on with Bonnie after the show. Joel Tepp was there too. Joel played in Bonnie's band ages ago and also played with Little Feat. He's a wonderful musician and a great guy. And he just lives up the street from me... So we made a commitment to play some tunes together and see what happens. Could be good.

Busker Fest is coming up on the 17th. And I'm on the festival committee so this is crunch time. I can only imagine what its like to put together a larger festival like Bumbershoot or Folklife. This thing is tiny and it still takes the wind out of you. Check out the link: http://pikemarketbuskers.org/ Click on the "festival" tab on the left hand side. And come on down if you can, its a blast! Today we got all the show odors on the stages correct so that the program can be printed. I have a logo to get ready for the Swingside Cafe. Actually, Brad's Swingside Cafe - I should say it correctly. More about that later. People who sponsor stages and so on get special mentions and I have some tasks to perform in that regard. I also have been doing a bit of the publicity work. We may get some TV, its hard to tell with those folks. Also radio. All the press releases are out.

Before I forget, somebody put up a song of mine on YouTube. "When Johnny Comes Marching Home." It's pretty cool. I can barely watch it because I have a modem but if you have cable or whatever you won't have any problem. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slt0Iq72MY8

I'm going back to Taiwan and I'm really excited about that! I was there for a festival last December and now the same people are putting on another festival in Taipei in October. It's very interesting to be there - the people are wonderful. And its such a liberating experience to be in a place where they don't even use an alphabet you can recognize! All you can do is laugh. It challenges your trust in humanity. I'll write more on this later. Right now I have to sleep... I'm cleaning out the garage and that, let me tell you, is a major excavation.