2-BSide
disappeared,” and expresses his
disbelief that anybody would ever
expect him to stay there: “You
ask why I don’t live here / Honey,
how come you don’t move?”
It’s descriptive, accusatory and
deliciously spiteful. The song
itself doesn’t actually even use the
phrase “on the road again,” but it’s
clear from the disdainful lyrics
what the title phrase is referring
to: The narrator is abandoning a
lifestyle and a group of people he
dislikes, back on the road to try to
find something better.
Five
years
later,
Canned
Heat released their take on the
phrase with a track of softcore,
paranoid rock. The 1970 “On the
Road Again,” which Slackwax
covered in 2012, is full of bluesy
repetitions: “But I ain’t going
down that long, old lonesome road
all by myself / But I ain’t going
down that long, old lonesome
road all by myself / I can’t carry
you, baby, gonna carry somebody
else.” Like Dylan’s version, it’s
a song about getting away from
one’s problems, mournful in the
style of many blues songs but
also tingling with a kind of dark
optimism.
Ten years after that, Willie
Nelson released perhaps the best-
known “On the Road Again,”
a carousing country rock song
full of all-too-classic road trip
images, like “makin’ music with
my friends” and “goin’ places
that I’ve never been.” It’s free-
spirited, both in its lyrics and in
its merry personality, and it’s one
of those songs you can imagine a
parent choosing as the first track
on a mixtape just before setting
out on some early childhood road
trip. One of the intriguing things
about it is the group aspect. When
Nelson sings, “Our way is on the
road again,” you feel like you’re
included in the “our” — like you’re
one of a group of people whose
way is to keep going, always
exploring, always seeking out
someplace new and better.
The most recent major “On
the Road Again” is from 2015:
a weird, electronic psytrance
instrumental from Israeli duo
Infected Mushroom. However,
I’m going to close out this article
with a slightly older iteration:
2005’s “On the Road Again” from
hip-hop artist Sheek Louch. It’s a
track full of blistering confidence,
from boasts about the artist
himself to comparisons between
himself and other rappers (“I got
a thousand songs like ’Pac and
them”). Superficially, the sound
itself is distinct from some of the
other songs I’ve listed, in the way
that they’re distinct from each
other — for instance, you might
not find Infected Mushroom and
Bob Dylan on the same playlist,
or the Memphis Jug Band and
Canned Heat, unless it was a
playlist (like the one I made the
other day) entitled “Songs Called
‘On The Road Again.’”
But when you get right down
to it, Sheek’s version, just like
Nelson’s and Dylan’s, is a song
about personal progress, a song
that says “full steam ahead.”
He sings, “Anyway, back to the
drawin’ board / I’m independent
now, whoever with me, all
aboard.” He visits and revisits
a chorus that proclaims, “I’ve
got my money, my passport, my
gun is loaded,” and promises us,
“A lot of shit about to change.”
I’m willing to bet that if you’re
handed the aux cord, whether
you start blasting Sheek Louch or
Willie Nelson, you’re doing it for
similar reasons: You’re hitting the
road, and you’re ready to feel good
about it, and about yourself.
Music has always been one
of the primary languages of
transition, whether it’s between
physical or geographical places
(i.e. road tripping) or between
one state of mind and another.
And sure, maybe this is taking
the whole “On the Road Again”
thing a little too deep. After
all, I don’t really think most of
these artists were echoing one
another on purpose. But in a way,
that makes the common thread
between them even stronger,
because maybe we keep returning
to roads and cars and trains for a
reason. Maybe this is what music
means to us, or at least a part of it.
It’s about lamenting what you’ve
lost — an unreliable lover, an
unhealthy household, a company
stolen away or gone sour — and
then saying, “Well, back to it,”
after everything. It’s about getting
away from your problems while
also heading toward something
new, something for now only
sensed — like following the length
of a thread in a darkened room,
or driving down a highway in no
direction at all.
When I’m going on a road
trip with friends, one of the first
things we sort out after piling into
the car is who’s going to get the
first turn on the aux cord. I know
this isn’t uncommon; the concept
of being handed the aux cord has
become so universal that it’s given
way to a song called “Aux Cord,”
several playlists with aux-related
titles and, predictably, a score of
relevant memes. This especially
makes sense in the context of car
trips, because music for a while
now has been tied to notions of
travel, adventure and freedom.
Could this be why there are so
many well-known songs called
“On the Road Again”?
It’s
true.
The
adventure-
anxious “On the Road Again”
track is a mysterious torch that has
been handed down throughout
history by such high-profile artists
as Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan and
the Memphis Jug Band. Upon
first glance, these songs don’t
seem entirely related, apart from
the shared title. But it’s a telling
title, and it reveals an important
commonality that these artists
share even across different genres
— an appreciation for music as the
spirit of the traveler.
In order to make sense of this,
let’s go back to the beginning.
The seminal “On the Road Again”
was the version by the Memphis
Jug Band, which was recorded
in 1928. Characteristic of the
Memphis Jug Band, the sound
resembles acoustic blues mixed
with early folk. Nas recorded a
cover of the song last year as a part
of the roots-focused “American
Epic” TV series, as well as an
interview in which he discussed
the impact that songs like “On the
Road Again” had on the influence
of hip hop.
In both versions, the song
relates the plight of a man whose
lover keeps cheating on him with
other men. There’s nothing fun
about being cheated on in real
life, but the song itself is non-
negotiable fun, largely due to its
keeping focus on the carefree
adventures
of
the
cheating
woman herself. The original
recording comes across at times
like a shouted exchange between
the lead singer and the rest of
the band, with the help of a
characteristically wide variety of
instruments and an unshakable
melody. By the time the chorus
hits with the lyrics, “She’s on the
road again, just as sure as you’re
born / Lord, a natural-born
Eastman on the road again,” it’s
practically impossible not to sing
along.
The next notable “On the
Road Again” came in 1965 from
a different folk figurehead, Bob
Dylan. The narrator sings about
a home that he finds distasteful,
with “fistfights in the kitchen”
and “a hole where my stomach
4B —Thursday, March 8, 2018
b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
REPRISE RECORDS
It was 1969 at a dairy farm
in the Catskills of New York,
the Aug. sun glaring heavily
down on the backs of 400,000
patrons. The small town of
Bethel
was
overrun
with
young people; they were there
for the Woodstock Music and
Art Festival, whose organizers
originally
only
expected
50,000 to come. Instead, the
three days of the festival
marked a pivotal moment in
American cultural history —
Woodstock became a symbol of
freedom which encompassed
some
of
the
most
iconic
moments
in
music
during
that
time.
Carlos
Santana
climbed the stage scaffolding,
the Grateful Dead performed
until they blew out their amps
and legends like Janis Joplin
and Jimi Hendrix inspired
generations to come. Struck by
the event, Joni Mitchell wrote
her masterpiece “Woodstock,”
which she shared with then-
boyfriend
Graham
Nash
to perform at the festival.
The song became a lasting
image of those three days,
but also an anthem of the
phenomenon that is that era’s
counterculture; a piece of the
Aquarian age which serves as
a window into the past.
The real power of the song
comes with its timelessness —
Mitchell’s core sentiment of
“getting back to the garden” is
a universal desire, especially
for those who work towards
change. Her lyrics go beyond
the tune itself, functioning
as a poetic reflection on the
festival’s
meaning
within
the late 1960s zeitgeist. To
Mitchell, we are all “stardust,”
“golden,” “billion year old
carbon,” all the same in the
dream to move forward in our
lives and societies. Woodstock
’69 was the tipping point
for this movement in music
culture, an event which united
thousands of young people to
collectively celebrate the art
of their time. This unification
was made even more poignant
by the looming presence of
Vietnam, as anti-war efforts
reached a fever pitch within
counterculture and the general
population
alike.
Mitchell
even weaves the war into
“Woodstock,” seeing “bombers
turning into butterflies” in the
skies above her.
Though it seems like a blip
in history from the present
perspective, Woodstock was
a phenomenon which meant
more than just what occurred
during those three days. It
was an incredible collection
of
the
era’s
most
famous
and
culturally
pervasive
musicians,
poster
children
for the “free love” movement,
The three
days of the
festival marked a
pivotal moment
in American
cultural history
— Woodstock
became a symbol
of freedom which
encompassed
some of the most
iconic moments in
music during that
time
CLARA SCOTT
Daily Arts Writer
Joni Mitchell, the summer
of ’69 and the Woodstock
cultural phenomenon
MUSIC
the rebirth of folk, the height
of rock ‘n’ roll and the rise of
funk. Even with this, the legacy
of Woodstock ’69 goes beyond
its iconic music, and instead
lies within the intention of the
thousands who attended. The
festival was a unique moment
to come together in a time of
political and social turmoil,
an opportunity to collectively
shout
against
the
powers
which held back America’s
inevitable evolution. It was an
effort to rebuild the country’s
soul, or at least mark a turning
point clearly within cultural
history
—
a
chance
for
thousands of young people to
be, as Mitchell sings, a “cog in
something turning.”
In a time where music
festivals saturate the popular
sphere,
it’s
important
to
remember Woodstock as a
benchmark for what they can
truly offer to society. Though
festivals like Coachella and
Lollapalooza are slowly being
lost to commercialism, there
is still a nugget of cultural
importance in the idea that
they are built on. When that
many young, interested and
musically savvy people gather
in one place, there is always
the potential for social and
artistic change. Woodstock
’69 held incredible meaning
during its time and still does
today, reminding us of the
power that unity in art and
culture can have in periods of
chaos. As Mitchell writes, our
country is too often “caught
in the devil’s bargain” of
greed
and
disillusionment
—
it’s
the
responsibility
of
counterculture
to
reel
against this bargain through
a collision of innovative art
and
social
awareness,
no
matter how hard it may seem.
Woodstock’s status as one of,
if not the most famous festival
in American music history
acts as evidence that unity
and the celebration of art
can truly shift the course of
culture to pursue a different
future — that festivals have
the potential to help us find
“the garden” of change we all
seek.
On the road again and again, the music never ends
MUSIC
LAURA DZUBAY
Daily Arts Writer
COLUMBIA RECCORDS
It was an
incredible
collection of the
era’s most famous
and culturally
pervasive
musicians, poster
children for
the “free love”
movement, the
rebirth of folk, the
height of rock ‘n’
roll and the rise of
funk
The Woodstock Music and Art Festival during the summer
of 1969 was a pivotal moment in art, culture and history
Maybe we keep
returning to
roads and cars
and trains for a
reason. Maybe
this is what music
means to us, or at
least a part of it