Woody Guthrie. Chronicles Volume One. Bob Dylan

A reading by me, some music, and some paintings.

Sep 21, 2024

I put on the turntable and when the needle dropped, I was stunned—didn’t know if I was stoned of straight. What I heard was Woody singing a whole lot of his own compositions all by himself . . . songs like “Ludlow Massacre,” “1913 Massacre,” “Jesus Christ,” “Pretty Boy Floyd,” “Hard Travelin’,” “Jackhammer John,” “Grand Coulee Dam,” “Pastures of Plenty,” “Talkin’ Dust Bowl Blues,” “This Land Is Your Land.”

All these songs together, one after another made my head spin. It made me want to gasp. It was like the land had parted. I had heard Guthrie before but mainly just a song here and there—mostly things that he sang with other artists. I actually hadn’t heard him, not in this earth shattering kind of way. I couldn’t believe it. Guthrie had such a grip on things. He was so poetic and tough and rhythmic. There was so much intensity, and his voice was like a stiletto. He was like none of the other singers I ever heard, and neither were his songs. His mannerisms, the way everything just rolled off his tongue, it all just about knocked me down. It was like the record player itself had just picked me up and flung me across the room.

The songs mentioned by Bob Dylan, in that order —