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Raised in the slums of Brooklyn (New York), Richard P. Havens began to make a name for himself on the street corners of the Big Apple singing doo-wop hit singles. At the beginning of the sixties, he was a regular visitor to that authentic talent factory that was Greenwich Village (Bob Dylan and Joan Baez... they might suffice), the driving force of American counter-culture, which would spark the demands for change from all young people around the world (rich and Western...).
The young African American managed to record two works between '64 and '66, thanks to which he was noticed and signed by MGM Records, which had just created Verve Forecast, a label dedicated exclusively to folk recordings.
From this union, in 1967, "Mixed Bag" was released, still considered by many to be his best studio work, an incredibly intense and passionate album; where Havens surrounds his three original songs (a creative parsimony that he would carry throughout his career) with a series of very personal and heartfelt reinterpretations of songs (some famous, others a little less so), almost as if he wanted to internalize them, making them his own and returning them to us clothed in a new soul. In this sense, the concluding "Eleanor Rigby" is perfect, where the mood of the song remains almost identical, but the austere intransigence of the original Beatles version is softened by the faint piano threads that, together with a martial "jazzed" drum and a decisive bass, support Havens' deep and suffering voice, where the vigorous strum of his guitar fits perfectly. An alchemy that sublimates perfectly in the opener "High Flyin' Bird" by country singer Billy Ed Wheeler, where Havens' melancholically rocky voice proudly traverses four hundred years of African American slavery, overshadowing in pathos even the robust and austere atmosphere of the song. Tension, unease, and anger, but also joy and hope, enter and exit the voice of the "folk-crooner", wonderfully tailored according to the main themes of the songs, being strong and reassuring in the easy-listening interpretation of " I Can't Make It Anymore" by Gordon Lightfoot or warm and soft in "Morning, Morning" by the Fugs' Tuli Kupfenberg; while a smoky club tension emerges in songs like "Sandy" and "San Francisco Bay Blues".
But the best is yet to come. The fusion of psychedelia and folk implemented by Californian bands like Kaleidoscope and Country Joe & The Fish, in "Adam", lives with the same soul with Richie Havens trying to follow the same path but with the slightly irked pride of a New Yorker, who has the sky in slices between skyscrapers instead of the azure that sinks into the blue of the ocean with the green and orange of the orange hill backdrop as a soft home for West Coast lysergic experiments. "Follow" is a 100% Dylanian ballad, crafted for him by composition artisan Jerry Merrick, a sort of homage to Robert Zimmerman, which becomes a true tribute in the rigorous cover of "Just Like A Woman". "Three Day Eternity" by Jesse Fuller is the weakest track on the record, a sort of folk version of billionaire crooners from Las Vegas, only good for further showcasing Havens' versatile vocal adaptability while "Handsome Johnny" deserves a separate discussion. The pacifist ballad is the track that would kick off Woodstock Festival and propel Richie into a long and fruitful career, a song completely embedded in the era it was born, which fully expresses the peace and change demands that were yet to be shipwrecked and gives us that vibrant tension that flowed through the streets and veins of that lost paradise... and that I like to set exactly halfway between the prophetic seed of "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and the apocalyptic fruit of "Ohio".
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 High Flyin' Bird (03:37)
There's a high flyin' bird, flying way up in the sky,
And I wonder if she looks down, as she goes on by?
Well, she's flying so freely in the sky.
Lord, look at me here,
I'm rooted like a tree here,
Got those sit-down,
can't cry Oh Lord, gonna die blues.
Now the sun it comes up and lights up the day,
And when he gets tired, Lord, he goes on down his way,
To the east and to the west,
He meets God every day.
Lord, look at me here,
I'm rooted like a tree here,
Got those sit-down, can't cry
Oh Lord, gonna die blues.
Now I had a woman
Lord, she lived down by the mine,
She ain't never seen the sun,
Oh Lord, never stopped trying.
Then one day my woman up and died,
Lord, she up and died now.
Oh Lord, she up and died now.
She wanted to fly,
And the only way to fly is die, die, die.
There's a high flyin' bird, flying way up in the sky,
And I wonder if she looks down as she goes on by?
Well, she's flying so freely in the sky.
Lord, look at me here,
I'm rooted like a tree here,
Got those sit-down, can't cry,
Oh, Lord, gonna die blues.
05 Follow (06:24)
Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you're able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.
And close your fingertips and fly where I can't hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain't what they seem.
And don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.
The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won't stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.
And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I'll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream
The rising smell of fresh-cut grass
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don't miss you
If all the things you taste ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
The sun and moon both arise
And we'll see them soon through days and nights
But now silver leaves are mirrors, bring delights.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow...
08 Handsome Johnny (03:55)
Hey, look yonder, tell me what you see
Marching to the fields of Concorde?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with his flintlock in his hand,
Marching to the Concorde war, hey marching to the Concorde war.
Hey, look yonder, tell me what's that you see
Marching to the fields of Gettysburg?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with his musket in his hand,
Marching to the Gettysburg war, hey marching to the Gettysburg war.
Hey, look yonder, tell me what's that you see
Marching to the fields of Dunkirk?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with a carbine in his hand,
Marching to the Dunkirk war, hey marching to the Dunkirk war.
Hey, look yonder, tell me what you see
Marching to the fields of Korea?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with his M1 in his hand,
Marching to the Korean war, hey marching to the Korean war.
It's a long hard road, it's a long hard road,
It's a long hard road, before we'll be free, before we'll be free. yeah, yeah, yeah.
Hey, look yonder, tell me what you see
Marching to the fields of Birmingham?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with his hand rolled in a fist,
Marching to the Birmingham war, hey marching to the Birmingham war.
Hey, look yonder, tell me what you see
Marching to the fields of Vietnam?
Looks like Handsome Johnny with his M15,
Marching to the Vietnam war, hey marching to the Vietnam war.
Hey, what's the use of singing this song, some of you are not even listening.
Tell me what it is we've got to do: wait for our fields to start glistening,
Wait for the bullets to start whistling.
Here comes a hydrogen bomb, here comes a guided missile,
Here comes a hydrogen bomb: I can almost hear its whistle.
09 San Francisco Bay Blues (02:33)
I got the blues from my baby down by the San Francisco Bay,
The ocean liner's gone so far away.
Didn't mean to treat her so bad, she was the best girl I ever have had,
She said goodbye, I can take a cry, I want to lay right down and die.
I ain't got a nickel and I ain't got a lousy dime.
If she don't come back, I think I'm going to lose my mind.
If she ever gets back to stay, it's going to be another brand new day,
Walking with my baby down by the San Francisco Bay.
Sitting down looking from my back door,
Wondering which way to go,
The woman I'm so crazy about, she don't love me no more.
Think I'll catch me a freight train, 'cause I'm feeling blue,
And ride all the way to the end of the line, thinking only of you.
Meanwhile, in another city,
Just about to go insane,
Thought I heard my baby, Lord, the way she used to call my name.
If I ever get her back to stay, it's going to be another brand new day,
Walking with my baby down by the San Francisco Bay,
Walking with my baby down by the San Francisco Bay,
Walking with my baby down by the San Francisco Bay.
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11 Eleanor Rigby (02:42)
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding
has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by
the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong ?
Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will
hear
No one comes near.
Look at him working. Darning his socks in the night when there's
nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her
name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from
the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
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