On August 17th 1969, threatening Sunday afternoon skies welcomed Joe Cocker’s incredibly spastic, but amazing, soul-searching set at the site of the Aquarian exposition in White Lake, NY at around 2:00 p.m. (Oh no! Another Woodstock post. Man, this kid is obsessed with something that he learned through documentaries and his parents. Stay with me guys you will see how it all makes sense. Well, there I go talking to myself again.) At the time I am writing this post he was most likely belting “Do I Still Figure into Your Life” or “Feelin Alright,” but I am not entirely sure, I am just going by the set-list. After Cocker’s set a torrential downpour shut down the event for around four hours. Who knows? Maybe, Cocker’s strained voice sent the clouds in frenzy and the rain a’pourin. Or, maybe it was just a normal August thunderstorm. After the rain delay a band whose name mixed both Joseph Stalin’s nickname (Country Joe) and Mao Tse-Tung’s statement about how the true revolutionary swims through the peasantry (The Fish) into a combination of protest songs and witty chants, opened the concert again. Their lead singer-songwriter, performing for the third time at the festival in three days. A record for sure for a man who stayed firm in his belief for peace and love and still does to this very day. The number 96th greatest lyricist of all time, Country Joe McDonald.
Four days ago I went to see a quasi-Woodstock reunion with a few original members of some of the better bands that performed at the Woodstock music festival. There was Big Brother and the Holding Company, lacking the pretty key Janis Joplin component, Canned Heat, lacking lead men Bob Hite and Alan Wilson, and even a twisted and odd version of Jefferson Starship (the band that was formed out of the original band from Woodstock, Jefferson Airplane. The music was fresh oldies though and the crowd was excited to see the originals pound away at their new drum sets and guitars (most likely purchased after the Woodstock festival), but nostalgia could only carry the sets so far. But, out on the stage after every act in a tie-die t-shirt was an older man with glasses, shaggy grey hair, and an acoustic guitar strapped to his neck like a weapon of peace. Yes, under all of the wrinkles and grey hair was the same young man that seemingly was out and about each day of Woodstock, on stage in front of hundreds of thousands. Performing in front of a crowd of One thousand and five hundred at best was Country Joe McDonald, still plucking that acoustic guitar and singing for peace after all of these years.
After Woodstock ended forty years ago tomorrow, the spontaneous gathering of peace and love was gone. The endless line of muddy faces and bodies were cleaned, the butt-naked men and women were clothed, and the thousands who once roamed the field of Max Yasgur’s farm looking for some acid or pot or water or food (the basic necessities of late 60’s existance) were gone, only their mess left to clean up. As curly-haired concert promoter Michael Lang left the site by helicopter to visit bankers waiting to scorn him for losing so much money at the event he spotted out of the helicopter’s window a large crop-circle like peace sign made out of garbage. A beautiful site constructed out of dirty papers, bottles, and simple waste. The garbage peace sign could really be considered eerie and prophetic. It only took a few months later (December, 6th) for peace and love to turn into pure hatred and fighting at The Altamont Speedway Free Festival, the Rolling Stones attempt at Woodstock. For some reason The Hell’s Angels, the rowdy motorcycle gang, were asked to provide security because the stage was only four feet high. Look, if members of The Hell’s Angels wanted to come to enjoy the show, sure, the more the merrier. But, hiring a motorcycle gang to provide any type of security is just asking for trouble and trouble they definitely received. The Vietnam war was still raging, the Kent State massacre came in May of 1970, less then a year after Woodstock, and the garbage peace sign, the odd symbol of both beauty and, well, trash, had been cleared away and the farm in upstate New York turned back into a farm. But, the one man that continues to keep trying for peace is Country Joe and his protest music is the reason why he is #96 on the list.
People may inquire how a guy who profited on a comedic protest song could beat one Don McLean or Ray LaMontagne. A fantastic argument can be made against my case and I welcome the feedback (seriouly somebody talk to me, I am lonely in the blogosphere.) But, in my warped opinion, I feel as if Country Joe’s body of work is more significant then these other fantastic lyricists. His anti-war lyrics or not only comedic, some are rather serious, and his tireless efforts for peace are just incredibly honorable. He does not have to be Bono or Bob Geldof, who, while being noble in their goals, also have an ulterior motive in cash cow schemes to make exorbitant amounts of money through benefit concerts. He just can easily list off members of Sullivan County, the town that encompasses Bethel, NY (where Woodstock took place), who were killed in both the Vietnam War and Iraqi/Afghanistan war before and after his black comedy anti-war hit, “The Fish Cheer & I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-To-Die Rag.” Subtle mentioning of the horrors of war. His staggering lines in his anti-war songs also are delicately placed in the music for effect. Check out these lyrics from “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin-To-Die,” off of the self-titled 1967 album by him and his Fish.
“Well, come on mothers throughout the land,
Pack your boys off to Vietnam.
Come on fathers, don’t hesitate,
Send ’em off before it’s too late.
Be the first one on your block
To have your boy come home in a box.”
Be the first one on the block to have your boy come home in a box. It is just like, Woah. Did he really just say that? It is such a witty line and it is set to the backdrop of an old-time late 20’s rag song. But, it is and still is true. Now let us look at the lesser known, “Here I go Again,” off of the 1969 album “Here We Are Again.”
“Father’s gone to fight the war,
He left us here alone.
I shiver in the lonesome night
Beside the telephone
But time brings no word,
I guess he’s not coming home,
It feels like the end,
It feels like the end, my friend.”
This lacks any humor because there is no humor in war. Protest songs can be catchy and, in a sense, somewhat comical because war is obviously an incredibly dumb part of human existence, but when a father leaves for war and a child is left alone pondering whether he will ever see his father again the situation is certainly not comical. War is terror and peace may never possibly be able to exist in a world with so much violence, but Country Joe McDonald will for the rest of his peaceful life through attempt to bring a little peace with his lyric wherever he travels. This, in my opinion, is good enough for now.
The Music Court 
Leave a comment