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Songs to Aging Children Come December 6, 2009

Posted by The Typist in cryptical envelopment, Dancing Bear, Toulouse Street.
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There are no artists today who write songs like this. The traditions that grew out of Lomax’s tape deck, the Celtic and African echos of our ancestors that blossomed in the Fifties and Sixties when a man with a guitar standing on the shoulders of Woody and Leadbelly could speak poetry into the blue television night, all that is lost in the cannibal corporate white noise of hollow pop stars. The dregs of the story-singing country outlaws pimp Monday Night Football and the the last balladeers practice the ghost dance of hip hop, the staccato Glock-pop soundtrack of the last days of Potemkin America.

We can only remember that we were privileged to have lived in the days of the last troubadours.