FORWARD
We've been spoiled. There's simply no getting away from the fact that included
among the songwriters of America during the past half-decade have been some
of the most talented in its entire history. Or maybe it only seems that way
because songwriters - and especially singer-songwriters have found it easier
than ever before to get their songs to appreciative audiences via recordings,
song folios, and frequent concert and club appearances. But whatever the reason
for the recognition and applause which they so richly deserve, there is no denying
the real talent of Steve Goodman, John Prine, Kris Kristoffersen, Merle Haggard,
Jim Croce, and maybe a half-dozen more of the most recent crop of songwriters.
The real difference between these "word-slingers" (as Woody Guthrie,
the best of them, referred to such writers) and the ones who threw up a continuous
stream of songs in the late fifties and throughout the sixties, is the amazing
genius of these new writers in communicating with broad sections of our population
in straight-forward language, employing seemingly simple, familiar-sounding,
and singable tunes. No fancy pseudo-poetry, no semi-mystical symbolism, no long-winded
self-indulgence, no unending contemplation of one's navel, no ego trips and
no onanism. What they give us are really good songs about things that really
count, songs with which people can identify and, perhaps most important of all,
songs that make listeners become singers rather than passive auditors of someone
else's performance.
Probably one of the best of these songwriters... No! Why should I hedge my bets
on him? ... THE BEST of these songwriters is a man who has been writing consistently
great and sometimes superb songs for more than fifteen years. Except for those
of his songs which other, better known songwriters and singers have plugged
through their recordings and live performances, most of his writing is unknown
to that part of the American public who would most appreciate him. Since his
name is on the front cover of this book, there's no reason to put off mentioning
it any longer. I'm talking about the man who enjoys the continuing joke of calling
himself "The Golden Voice of the Great Southwest": U. Utah Phillips.
Bruce, to employ his given rather than his adopted name, has managed to get
his songs known to music lovers who are members of regional folksong societies,
attend festivals, frequent coffee houses and folk clubs... and all without benefit
of high-powered managers, agents, record producers, publishing houses, and all
the rest of thetalent- and flesh-peddling rip-off artists who comprise the music
industry. Wherever he goes he sings his own and other equally good songs, building
a steady and devoted following among folk music lovers (who know his songs aren't
really folk songs- and couldn't care less), picket line marchers, and other
fighters for good causes across America. The devotion they exhibit is no fatuous
idol worship. It's the recognition of a truly great talent and an ability to
communicate through the medium of song -- a talent he shares with Joe Hill,
T-Bone Slim, Ralph Chaplin (to all of whom he is a comrade in the social and
economic ideal known as the IWW), and Woody Guthrie, America's best-known rebel
songwriter.
But let's get on to the songs themselves, because that's what this book is really
about. My own favorite is "Daddy, What's a Train". Noooo... I like
"Green Rolling Hills" even better. And then, of course, there's "Rocksalt
and Nails"... and "John D. Lee"... and "Goodnight-Loving
Trail"... and "Phoebe Snow" and "Queen of the Rails"
and "Starlight on the Rails" and ... Hell, who am I kidding. I like
all of these and maybe a few there wasn't room enough to include. It's a great
book, but its true value will be appreciated only when you and lots of others
like you learn these songs and sing them across America. Try one now. Like the
television ad says about potato chips, you won't be able to stop with just one.
Kenneth S. Goldstein
Philadelphia, 29 May 1973
INTRODUCTION
Most of the time when you buy a songbook it's not for the introduction,
it's for the songs. I can't remember the last time I read a songbook introduction.
So I guess it doesn't much matter what I say here. Most of what I want to say
is in the songs anyway. But I will take this opportunity to acknowledge some
outstanding debts. It makes sense to keep track of who you owe and for what.
Songs are made out of words and tunes. The words and tunes in these songs come
from a lot of different places and times. They come to you courtesy of Clarence
E. "Hank" Snow, A. E. Houseman, Robert W. Service, Li Po, Woody Guthrie,
Thomas Wolfe, Ammon Hennacy and Clement Wood. Most of all, they come from experiences
and conversations with other people who said things in simple and memorable
ways, ways easily translatable into songs.
I feel that songs are not written but assembled out of what you hear and see
in the world around you. The more you keep your eyes and ears open, and the
more questions you ask, then the more raw material you have from which to assemble
songs. Nothing happens inside your head without something happening outside
your head first. For that and other reasons I don't believe that songs can be
owned by anybody. If I am talking to someone in a gas station and later on the
story he tells me ends up in a song, how can I say that I wrote the song or
that I own it?
Now I've made a lot of mistakes about this and allowed myself to be suckered
in by contracts and promises. And I've learned from it all. I have discovered
that it is nearly impossible to keep the parasites and money grubbers who own
the music machine from making money off of our songs. The only way to do that
seems to be to avoid assembling them in the first place. And we're not going
to do that. So the best I can do is to try and figure out ways to keep these
songs out of the hands of people I don't like and at the same time try to figure
out other ways to get them into the hands of all the people who helped me to
put them together. That's why we made not only a songbook but a little home-grown
co-op, Wooden Shoe, to get it and other songbooks out and around.
But I want to be clear about this: I have no intention now or ever of making
money out of putting together songs. Sure, I can be conned and duped, I can
be outright swindled and robbed. But to the best of my ability, I will never
consciously try to make money out of selling what doesn't belong to me.
Bruce Phillips
San Francisco, May 1973