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Rating: Take any copy of the New York Times, and you will find in the top left corner of the front page a seven-word slogan. "All the news that's fit to print" is not simply a motto; it is truly the emblem of American journalism. Look it up on Google, and the first result will tell you that the famous slogan first appeared in 1896, under the direction of Adolph Simon Ochs.
Ochs. That surname sounds familiar.
It is 1964, at the height of the Cold War and less than a year after President Kennedy's assassination. The United States, weaving the web of economic imperialism around the entire globe, finds itself trapped in situations of futile belligerence (of which the Vietnam front is a blatant example), while fear of nuclear holocaust spreads increasingly. It is largely in such gray and seemingly hopeless environments that art flourishes as an attempt to subvert a pathologically flawed system; and, as is well known, never more so than in the Sixties did music, of all the arts, aim to give voice to a wholly new ideologically-driven generation.
This is how the protest folk of Woody Guthrie and Leadbelly's school is reborn, ultimately enshrined by Bob Dylan; Greenwich Village is buzzing, folk clubs overflowing with new singer-songwriter talent. In this environment, a young militant journalism enthusiast operates almost in the shadows: he's not great at playing the guitar (music critics a few years later will scornfully call his technique "flipper-fingered"), yet his talent is undeniable. Phil Ochs, a Texan born in 1940, quickly becomes noted for his radical views and sarcasm, to the point of being invited to perform at the Newport Folk Festival in 1963 shortly after moving to New York. The times are ripe and Phil, the following year, records his first album. Being a journalism devotee as he is, he already has decided on the title of his work: thus, despite having no familial ties to that famous Ochs mentioned earlier, the slogan becomes "All the news that's fit to sing". It is a manifesto of journalistic songwriting that will characterize his entire career.
A single playthrough of the album is enough to form a clear idea. Phil is in peak inspiration, already recording some of his best songs at debut. The stinging "One More Parade" opens the curtains: it is a fierce critique of war ("when they march together they all look the same / so you can't blame anyone"), punctuated by the beat of a real military march. "Talkin' Vietnam Blues" and "Talkin' Cuban Crisis" delve into the talking blues vein already explored by contemporary Dylan, analyzing the more contentious aspects of the Cold War; "Automation Song", incredibly prophetic, attacks technology advancement tainted by utilitarianism ("I walk down a road with no work / and tell me, where should I go?"); "Too Many Martyrs" is dedicated to Medgar Evers, an activist and politician assassinated the previous year; "Bound for Glory" is a tribute to Woody Guthrie, the songwriter's main influence. Additionally, there is a nod to American literature: "The Bells" is a poem by Edgar Allan Poe, set to music with originality and flair.
However, it is with "Power and the Glory" that the zenith is reached: the song, a Guthrie-like patriotic anthem, was described by Ochs himself during its composition, addressing his sister, as the best song he would ever write. It conveys a form of patriotism that highlights the most alienating paradoxes of one's nation, an invitation for the entire American public to reflect. Every critique of his homeland ("although as rich as the poorest of the poor / free as the locked door of a prison") resolves in the extraordinary chorus, where America is idealized in simple words without any rhetorical flourish, typical of journalistic style ("here is a land full of power and glory / of beauty words cannot describe").
Phil's lacking guitar technique is well concealed by the second guitar of Danny Kalb, a seasoned blues guitarist and already a friend and colleague of Dave Van Ronk. The result is a homogeneous protest album, well-executed and pleasant to listen to, worthy of comparison to Freewheelin' Bob Dylan; a true masterpiece indispensable for fully understanding a dark page of contemporary history.
Tracklist and Lyrics
07 The Bells (03:10)
Hear the sledges with the bells
Silver bells
What a world of merriment
Their melody foretells
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle
In the icy air of night
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight
Keeping time, time, time
With a sort of Runic rhyme
From the tintinnabulation
That so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells
Hear the mellow wedding bells
Golden bells
What a world of happiness
Their harmony foretells
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight
Through the dances and the yells
And the rapture that impels
How it swells
How it dwells
On the future
How it tells
From the swinging and the ringing of the molten golden bells
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells
Of the rhyming and the chiming of the bells
Hear the loud alarum bells
Brazen bells
What a tale of terror now
Their turbulency tells
Much too horrified to speak
Oh, they can only shriek
For all the ears to know
How the danger ebbs and flows
Leaping higher, higher, higher
With a desperate desire
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire
With the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells
With the clamor and the clanging of the bells
Hear the tolling of the bells
Iron bells
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels
For all the sound that floats
From the rust within our throats
And the people sit and groan
In their muffled monotone
And the tolling, tolling, tolling
Feels a glory in the rolling
From the throbbing and the sobbing
Of the melancholy bells
Oh, the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells
Oh, the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
12 Bound for Glory (03:20)
D A7
He walked all over his own growin' land
D
From the New York island to the California sand
G D
He saw all the people that needed to be seen
A7 G D
Planted all the grass where it needed to be green
Em A D
And now he's bound for a glory all his own
Em A D
And now he is bound for glory
He wrote and he sang and he rode upon the rails
And he got on board when the sailors had to sail
He said all the words that needed to be said
He fed all the hungry souls that needed to be fed
(chorus)
He sang in our streets and he sang in our halls
And he was always there when the unions gave a call
He did all the jobs that needed to be done
He always stood his ground when a smaller man would run
(chorus)
And its Pastures of Plenty wrote the dustbowl balladeer
And This Land is Your Land, he wanted us to hear
And the risin' of the unions will be sung about again
And the Deportees live on through the power of his pen
(chorus)
Now they sing out his praises on every distant shore
But so few remember what he was fightin' for
Oh why sing the songs and forget about the aim?
He wrote them for a reason, why not sing them for the same
(chorus)
13 Too Many Martyrs (02:50)
In the state of Mississippi many years ago
A boy of 14 years got a taste of Southern law
He saw his friend a hanging and his color was his crime
And the blood upon his jacket left a brand upon his mind
Too many martyrs and too many dead
Too many lies too many empty words were said
Too many times for too many angry men
Oh let it never be again
His name was Medgar Evers and he walked his road alone
Like Emmett Till and thousands more whose names we'll never know
They tried to burn his home and they beat him to the ground
But deep inside they both knew what it took to bring him down
Too many martyrs and too many dead
Too many lies too many empty words were said
Too many times for too many angry men
Oh let it never be again
The killer waited by his home hidden by the night
As Evers stepped out from his car into the rifle sight
he slowly squeezed the trigger, the bullet left his side
It struck the heart of every man when Evers fell and died.
Too many martyrs and too many dead
Too many lies too many empty words were said
Too many times for too many angry men
Oh let it never be again
And they laid him in his grave while the bugle sounded clear
laid him in his grave when the victory was near
While we waited for the future for freedom through the land
The country gained a killer and the country lost a man
Too many martyrs and too many dead
Too many lies too many empty words were said
Too many times for too many angry men
Oh let it never be again
14 What's That I Hear (02:01)
C G D What's that I hear now ringing in my ear G C G D I've heard that sound before C G D What's that I hear now ringing in my ear G C G D I hear it more and more G D It's the sound of freedom calling G D Ringing up to the sky G D It's the sound of the old ways falling C G C D You can hear it if you try C G C D You can hear it if you try What's that I see now shining in my eyes I've seen that light before What's that I see now shining in my eyes I see it more and more It's the light of freedom shining Shining up to the sky It's the light of the old ways a dying You can see it if you try What's that I feel now beating in my heart I've felt that beat before What's that I feel now beating in my heart I feel it more and more It's the rumble of freedom calling Climbing up to the sky It's the rumble of the old ways a falling You can feel it if you try
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