Woody Guthrie: American Radical Patriot

If I had my way, every one of the millions of people who fell in love with Mumford & Sons’ newest album, Babel, would get the urge to go a little deeper and figure out why it touched them and kindled something they could perhaps feel, but not quite grasp. It’s a journey that would take them past The Avett Brothers and Deer Tick and right through Wilco, Bob Dylan and The Band to somewhere more essential and deep-rooted than any other music has ever traveled to. It’s a journey that could only end with Woody Guthrie.
It was just over a hundred years ago that Woody Guthrie was born, but that doesn’t necessarily mean much. The world has changed so quickly in the last decade or so that listening to Woody’s croaky old flint-and-dust voice and choppy guitar is like dialing into something as ancient as Moses or Gilgamesh, and it’s got to be said that his music may be just as valuable as anything any of those prophets ever said or put down on old stone tablets. And that’s not really hyperbole. The 150 or so songs that are collected in American Radical Patriot are every bit as evocative of the time and culture they grew out of as the stories of Isaiah and Jacob were for the people of the desert thousands of years ago. Like those Biblical parables, Woody’s songs have taken on the quality of myth and Guthrie himself has become elevated in the public imagination to a figure far larger than life. As the great American novelist John Steinbeck wrote of Guthrie, “Woody is just Woody. Thousands of people do not know he has any other name. He is just a voice and a guitar. He sings the songs of a people and I suspect that he is, in a way, that people. Harsh voiced and nasal, his guitar hanging like a tire iron on a rusty rim, there is nothing sweet about Woody, and there is nothing sweet about the songs he sings. But there is something more important for those who will listen. There is the will of a people to endure and fight against oppression.”
That’s it in a nutshell. No artist—not Dylan, Joe Strummer, Michael Franti, Bob Marley, Billy Bragg or Phil Ochs—has ever expressed a deeper will to fight against oppression and the rights of “the little guy” than Woody Guthrie. For people accustomed to Auto- Tune and digital recordings, hearing Woody’s music can come as a blistering shock. There’s nothing pretty about his presentation, and taken together, his output is as raw and rough, offhandedly sentimental and shit-disturbing as any music ever recorded. Hearing Woody can be like being hit by a tidal wave, but if you can ride out the staccato emotions and backwoods idealism, it’s an experience like none other. It can be a leap of faith, but if you give yourself time, in the same way that you forget Citizen Kane is a black-and-white movie and start enjoying the story, surrendering to Woody Guthrie’s spell will reveal a world that you may only have dimly expected ever really existed. At one level, then, the challengingly titled American Radical Patriot is a call to memory and a reminder of a national legacy that has nothing to do with Tea Party politics, money or corporate greed. It’s a reminder of when people risked everything to stand up and be counted.