By Butch Freedman
“…and its 1,2,3 what are we fightin for?
don’t ask me i don’t give a damn, the next stop is Vietnam,
and its 5,6,7 open up the pearly gates. Well there ain’t no time to wonder why…WHOOPEE we’re all gunna die.
now come on wall street don’t be slow, why man this’s war a-go-go,
there’s plenty good money to be made, supplyin’ the army with the tools of the trade,
just hope and pray that when they drop the bomb, they drop it on the Vietcong.”
– Country Joe and the Fish
Country Joe died recently. He was 84. All of us baby boom boys and girls are reaching our end times, but that’s not going to shut us up. Not as long as we have breath and guts to give, we’re hanging in. It’s not Vietnam any longer, but today’s news is eerily similar. Nobody knows why exactly our corrupt government is taking us into this global war and we’re all worried as shit—feeling generally hopeless, looking for ways to make ourselves heard. The one way that we used in the sixties, though, appears to be mostly missing in today’s protests.
After I wrote a recent piece about missing the 60’s, my friend Michael poetically commented:
One piece missing in this protest is music
Rock and roll was emerging
The protest gave lyrics to the songs
1000s of us gathered together
It moved our bodies
It brought our feet to the streets
We had a beat!!
There was so much good music back then, and most all of it spoke to our feelings of alienation and discomfort with what previous generations had brought to bear.
Buffalo Springfield reflected on that feeling of paranoia: “There’s battle lines being drawn
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Are getting so much resistance from behind”
The music of the day accompanied us and drew us closer together. We felt ourselves a tribe; and that tribe allowed us to stand firm against the power of oppression. The music moved us along, kept our spirits alive. That music still moves me. Especially the early works of the poet/minstrel of our time, Bobby Dylan. Dylan is still out there making music, even still touring, but, of course, it’s not the same. Back in the day, his words were our voice, his messages complex and powerful. Genius in full flower. There was the anthem, “Blowing in the Wind” and others that rallied and enlivened us as we listened late into the night: “The Times They are A’changin”, “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” and my favorite lyric, “I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more.”
But where are today’s Dylan and Baez, Leonard Cohen and Jimi Hendrix? Where are the Chambers Brothers and Janis Joplin? What, in fact, moves this younger generation toward freedom and rebellion? Maybe I’m still stuck in the sixties. Maybe not paying enough attention to today’s young people and their music. But I am looking. And mostly what I see is disaffection or on-line silliness. The heroes now—influencers and self-promoters, kids who want their endless moments of fame and likes. Who rallies the thoughtful and kind young people? Who are their heroes. Some have taken up the banner, are running for office, want to make change, get into “good trouble”, but they seem few and far between. Most don’t appear interested in the overall welfare of their country, a majority didn’t even vote in the last presidential election. What music moves them? Where is their idealism and hope? Don’t tell me about Charley Kirk or Nick Fuentes. That’s the sick and twisted response to a world gone batshit crazy.
I hope I’m wrong about this take on the young. Hope I’m missing the bigger picture, where Gen Z and their younger brothers and sisters are quietly plotting a way to step in and rescue us from the morass of government by clowns, criminals, and capitalists. I hope they are making covert plans to overthrow the patriarchy of old white men and their enablers. I hope they have their own Dylan waiting to be heard.
subscribe at butchblog.com