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Friday, November 25, 2005
CHAIN OF FOOLS [UNEDITED]
Aretha Franklin
Lady Soul
Atlantic : 1967
[Buy It]
CHAINED
Mavis Staples
Only For The Lonely
Stax : 1970
[Buy It]
HEY
The Pixies
Doolittle
4AD : 1989
[Buy It]
CHAIN GANG
Sam Cooke
Live At The Harlem Square Club!
RCA : 1963
[Buy It]
PRISONER OF LOVE
James Brown
Prisoner of Love
King : 1963
[Buy It]
CHAINS OF LOVE
Joe Turner
Atlantic :1951
[Buy It]
CHAINS OF LOVE
J. J. Barnes
Groovesville : 1967
Courtesy of : Diddy Wah
[Buy It]
NOW THAT I'M FREE
Wynona Carr
Specialty : c. 1957
[Buy It]
THAT'S HOW I ESCAPED MY CERTAIN FATE
Mission of Burma
Vs.
Ace of Hearts : 1982
[Buy It]
"A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.
"We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children's children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.
"Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds."
- Chief Seattle, 1854Labels: alex, holidays
posted by Alex
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