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

