2 edits
Originally posted by sonhouseAdd Kate & Anna McGarrigle, please: http://www.latribu.ca/mcgarrigle/index_1024.html 😀 (And maybe son Rufus Wainwright?)
High on the list for me: Stan Rogers, Gordon Lightfoot, Ian and Sylvia and Joni Mitchell. Anyone else of that stature?
English bio at: http://www.latribu.ca/mcgarrigle/bio_eng.html
Stan Rogers might be our finest. Lightfoot our most well-known. Mitchell has crossed over into avante-garde Jazz.
Cockburn's been a rocker for years. And Neil Young never really was anything but... we canadians are confusing folkies.
Leonard Cohen has to occupy a very special place, he does, and he will likely for a very long time 😵
Originally posted by widgetYep, good catch, also add Natelie McMaster, incredible fiddler.
Add Kate & Anna McGarrigle, please: http://www.latribu.ca/mcgarrigle/index_1024.html 😀 (And maybe son Rufus Wainwright?)
English bio at: http://www.latribu.ca/mcgarrigle/bio_eng.html
Stan Rogers might be our finest. Lightfoot our most well-known. Mitchell has crossed over into avante-garde Jazz.
Cockburn's been a rocker for years. And Neil ...[text shortened]... Cohen has to occupy a very special place, he does, and he will likely for a very long time 😵
Originally posted by cashthetrashI would think being a Canuk and now a world traveler doing gigs around the planet that his welcome or not in the south would not be a gigantic concern of his. He has a much bigger stage than that. Besides, why would southerners have a hardon against him in the first place? He write a song the south disliked? Sing something like 'I love Negoes'? What?
I hope Neil Young will remember that a Southern man don't need him around. 😉
Originally posted by sonhouseActually, you're both wrong:
Actually its called 'the Mines of Mosambique"
The Mines of Mozambique
There's a broad river winding
Through this African lowland
The moon is held up orange and big
See it raise its hands
And the last ferry's pulling out
With no place left to stand
For the mines of Mozambique
There's a wealth of amputation
Waiting in the ground
But no one can remember
Where they put it down
If you're the child that finds it there
You will rise upon the sound
Of the mines of Mozambique
Some men rob the passersby
For a bit of cash to spend
Some men rob whole countries dry
And still get called their friend
And under the feeding frenzy
There's a wound that will not mend
In the mines of Mozambique
Night, like peace,
Is a state of suspension
Tomorrow the heat will rise
And mist will hide the marshy fields
The mango and the cashew trees
Which only now they're clearing brush from under.
Rusted husks of blown up trucks
Line the roadway north of town
Like passing through a sculpture gallery
War is the artist
But he's sleeping now
And somebody will be peddling vials of penicillin stolen out of all the medical kits sent to the countryside.
And in the bare workshop they'll be molding plastic into little prosthetic limbs
For the children of this artist
And for those who farm the soil that received
His bitter seed...
The all-night stragglers stagger home
Cocks begin to crow
And singing birds are starting up
Telling what they know
And after awhile the sun will come
And we'll see what it will show
Of the mines of Mozambique
