uncontrollable falling down

hello, real cops?

[overinterpretation]

[prettymeggy-o]

[smithsonianfolkways]

“This Land is Your Land” is widely considered Woody Guthrie’s best-known folk song. This version, released on The Asch Recordings, Vol. 1 in 1999, contains the “missing fourth verse” that was included in Guthrie’s typed lyrics but not in his 1951 recording:

There was a big high wall there that tried to stop me

A sign was painted said: Private Property

But on the back side it didn’t say nothing

This land was made for you and me

Jeff Place, Smithsonian Folkways archivist, discovered the recording with the missing verse during his transfer of the masters in the Folkways Archives to compact disc.

Today is the 103rd anniversary of Guthrie’s birth, July 14, 1912. 

[fitzket]

happy birthday Woody

[fitzket]

Certain moments the whole earth seemed a grave. Other times, more hopefully, a garden.

Lorrie Moore

[smithsonianlibrariesarchives]

There’s a lot of good music in our country you never hear on the radio. You don’t hear it on the juke boxes or on TV. Just ordinary old-fashioned songs which one person teaches to another.

[smithsonianlibrariesarchives]

from the liner notes to Pete Seeger’s Folk Songs for Young People

Of all the things that Pete Seeger did to promote American Folk music, one of the most lasting has to be performing for and with children, and putting out albums of folk songs just for kids.

How many of us in the U.S. learned classic songs like Jimmie Crack Corn or On Top of Old Smokey from listening to Pete Seeger albums at home or at school? [Album art all courtesy Smithsonian Folkways which also has a TON of Pete Seeger albums available, including those above.]

[fitzket]

Gotta nab these for music time with Owen.

[jackwhitelove]

Source caption:  Jack & Meg, circa 1997/98 #nationalsiblingday #nationalsiblingsday #fbf

No comment. *silentlyscreaming*

[fitzket]

Way too many feelings seeing this photo.

[smithsonianfolkways]

BLACK GIRL (Where Did you Sleep Last Night, In the Pines)

Also known as “In the Pines”

Disc 1, Track 6

“In the Pines” – Laura Pergolizzi, 2012

“In the Pines” is an old American folk song found in both black and white tradition. Cecil Sharp collected it in the Appalachians in 1917. Over...

[fitzket]

Sufjan is back

And better, and sadder, and breaking my heart more than he ever has. I’ve been revisiting Seven Swans after an unintended listening hiatus, and my god, the end of “Sister” is jaw-dropping:

What the water wants is hurricanes, And sailboats to ride on its back. What the water wants is sun kiss, And land to run into and back. I have a fish stone burning my elbow, Reminding me to know I'm glad That I have a bottle filled with my own teeth. They fell out like a tear in the bag. And I have a sister in Detroit. She has black hair and small hands. And I have a kettledrum. I'll hit the earth with you. And I will crochet you a hat. And I have a red kite; I'll put you right in it. I'll show you the sky.

[smithsonianfolkways]

Original Folkways record slicks. These are the iconic “wrap-arounds” that were pasted on the album sleeves. Moe Asch would use whatever color was cheapest at the printer— that’s why the same album often has different color variations. 

[fitzket]

[fitzket]

The Same Boy You've Always Known is my favorite song that Jack has ever written. To see it performed like this is something really special.

[itsliketheyknowus]

10…

9…

8…

7…

6…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

8:30!!!!!

Happy New Year to everyone who used to do stuff. 

[alexandra-smyth]

This is way late, but I wrote a really ridiculous thing for Square Zeros about Dashboard Confessional. 

[fitzket]

This is so good.

[fitzket]

(ok, except this)

[fitzket]

can listen to nothing else right now

[michaelshannon-blog]

[fitzket]

Also

Don't forget this feeling. The electric buzz in the ribs when baby is high up, the funny shudder as it kicks around like it wants to come out and say hello. Before, I thought it would feel alien, but at first I could barely distinguish the kicks from my own jittery muscles. It still feels strangely like it's me that's moving, in a way, but then again it's impossible to deny there's a separate entity in there, squirming away the day in the warm little world of my body. I sing Beatles and Leadbelly songs, even when I'm out of breath from the pressure on my lungs, and search for signs it likes the music. I rub the little mystery bumps that bow out asking to be touched -- a heel, or maybe a knee? I find the latest development -- hiccups -- endlessly amusing, a soft and rhythmic beat inside my belly. When I wake up, usually anywhere from 2 to 6am at this point, I wait anxiously for the first movement and finally feel safety and relief when it comes. It all feels so other-worldly and impossible, but at the same time, the most natural thing in the world.