Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta JOAN BAEZ. Mostrar todas las entradas

Joan Baez: Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands

"INTERVIEWS: JULIO CORTAZAR, NAVA SEMEL, ELISA LERNER, SUSY DEMBO, BEATRIZ IRIART, DINAPIERA DI DONATO, MARIANA RONDON, JULIO EMILIO MOLINÉ" by viviana marcela iriart, Ed. Escritoras Unidas & Cia. Editoras, November 2016

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INTERVIEWS

JULIO CORTÁZAR: "One day in my life is always a beautiful thing, because I am very happy to be alive"

ELISA LERNER: “Solitude is the writer's homeland”

SUSY DEMBO, experimentation without limits: “it's alchemical, it’s magical”

NAVA SEMEL, interview beneath the missiles: And the Rat Laughed with Jane Fonda

BEATRIZ IRIART: An Ostracized Poet

DINAPIERA DI DONATO: Venezuelan poet in New York

MARIANA RONDÓN: "During my childhood, I thought cinema was only one movie: Yellow Submarine"

JULIO EMILIO MOLINÉ, co-director of the documentary Joan Baez in Latin America: '(she) received death threats, and was banned, persecuted'

Cover Photo: JULIO CORTÁZA & Viviana Marcela Iriart by EDUARDO GAMONDÉS, Caracas 1979

Joan Baez Tribute to George Floyd / Joan Baez homenaje George Floyd: "Let Us Break Bread Together" / 3 de junio de 2020

Martin Luther King and Joan Baez leads a group of African-American children
to their newly integrated school in Grenada, Mississippi, September 20, 1966

Let Us Break Bread Together

Traditional, arr. by Joan Baez

Let us break bread together on our knees, (on our knees)

Let us break bread together on our knees. (on our knees)

When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,

O Lord, have mercy on me. (on me)

Let us drink wine together on our knees, (on our knees)

Let us drink wine together on our knees. (on our knees)

When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,

O Lord, have mercy on me. (on me)

Let us praise God together on our knees, (on our knees)

Let us praise God together on our knees. (on our knees)

When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,

O Lord, have mercy on me. (on me)

Let Us Break Bread Together

Canción tradicional, arreglos de Joan Baez

Vamos a partir el pan juntas de rodillas (de rodillas)

Vamos a partir el pan juntas de rodillas. (de rodillas)

Cuando caigo de rodillas con la cara hacia el sol naciente,

Oh Señor, ten piedad de mí (ten piedad de mí)

Tomemos vino juntas de rodillas (de rodillas)

Cuando caigo de rodillas con la cara hacia el sol naciente,

Oh Señor, ten piedad de mí (ten piedad de mí)

Alabamos a Dios juntas de rodillas (de rodillas)

Alabamos a Dios juntas de rodillas. (de rodillas)

Cuando caigo de rodillas con la cara hacia el sol naciente,

Oh Señor, ten piedad de mí (ten piedad de mí)

Joan Baez youtube: diamondsandrustpro

Joan Baez very funny/ muy divertida: 1963-65-74-78

Scorsese’s New Dylan Documentary Is the Rebirth Myth America Needs, by Mike Hogan, June 10, 2019, Vanity Fair

Joan Baez & Bob Dylan. Photo: Netflix

Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese tells a timely poetic truth, if not a journalistic one. Under the circumstances, that might be understandable.

BY
MIKE HOGANJUNE 10, 2019

There is a scene in Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese in which Bob Dylan and Joan Baez talk with rare candor about their much-mythologized relationship. Dylan, who infamously dumped Baez during his 1965 tour of England, tells Baez they might have ended up together if she hadn’t gone off and gotten married. Baez points out that it was Dylan who got married first. Dylan, who seems a bit spaced out, pauses for a long time. Then the answer comes: “Yeah, but I married the woman I love.” Baez replies, “And I married the man I thought I loved.”

At that, Dylan goes from bashful to gloating in record time. Thought, he wants Baez to know, is what ails her. “Thought will fuck you up! See, it’s the heart; it’s not the head.”

The effort required to unpack this single scene tells us a lot about both the impossibility of ever getting a straight version of Dylan’s story and the way that challenge is met by Martin Scorsese, who first captured the singer-songwriter on film in 1978’s The Last Waltz, and later directed the seminal biographical documentary No Direction Home: Bob Dylan (2005). To begin with it’s not even clear if the Baez-Dylan encounter is real life or acting. The reason we have so much revelatory footage of 1975’s Rolling Thunder Revue tour is that Dylan hired two film crews to document it for what became the nearly four-hour art film Renaldo and Clara, in which Baez, Dylan, and his wife, Sara, form something like a doomed love triangle.

Rolling Thunder Revue barely acknowledges the existence of Sara, who would split from Dylan in a messy, expensive divorce just two years later. But according to his biographers, Dylan in 1975 was frantically trying to win her back—even as he was rumored to be sampling the many sexual opportunities available to him as perhaps the world’s most celebrated rock-and-roll genius. Baez, for her part, had amicably divorced her husband in 1973. Who loved whom, and who just thought they were in love? Hard to say.

One thing is for sure, though: Dylan really did believe that thought will fuck you up. How much of this was strategy, and how much was sheer perversity, is open to debate, but the effect was the same. The Rolling Thunder tour represented a breakthrough in Dylan’s understanding of how manufactured chaos and enforced spontaneity could enable him to pierce the bubble of wealth, power, and fame that had enveloped him over a decade earlier, so he could make some music with a genuine spark of life. And this documentary represents a new effort, by Dylan and Scorsese, to confound those seeking for anything as mundane as the objective truth.

Scorsese’s implied thesis is that this effort by a burned-out singer-songwriter to recapture his muse had a larger meaning. It was a quest on the eve of the Bicentennial to resuscitate the optimistic, can-do spirit of America, which had run aground on the twin shoals of Vietnam and Watergate.

I’m not convinced that’s what Dylan was really trying to do. After saying that “life isn’t about finding yourself, or finding anything,” he eventually cops to searching for “the holy grail.” But that strikes me as his usual wordplay-as-evasion tactics. It might even be pure, unadulterated bullshit. Nevertheless I think there are lessons for 2019 America in this very 1975 adventure. And so what if there aren’t, when we’re having so much fun, and listening to so much great music, with so many brilliant, talented, interesting, and/or attractive people?

Source: Vanity Fair

Joan Baez Steals Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder in New Netflix Documentary By Anna Menta, Decider, Jun 12, 2019

And that’s the story of how Joan Baez has been calling out celebrity worship

culture since 1975. All hail the queen of shade.

Joan Baez & Bob Dylan. Photo: Netflix

“Joan Baez and me could sing anything,” commented a present-day Dylan, in a rare moment of sentimentality. “We could sing together in our sleep. As a matter of fact,

lot of times when I was sleeping, I’d hear her voice.”

Joan Baez & Bob Dylan. Photo: Netflix

Bob Dylan is famously tight-lipped when comes to talking to the press—or indeed, talking to pretty much anyone. True story: When I was 14 years old, I went to a Bob Dylan concert with my family, and he didn’t say a word to the audience the entire time. (And the audience loved it.)

In Martin Scorsese‘s new Netflix documentary, Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese, Scorsese does get Dylan to talk, I assume because he’s Martin Scorsese. (It also helps that this documentary, which follows Dylan’s 1975 Rolling Thunder Revue concert tour, is Scorsese’s second Dylan film, the first being No Direction Home in 2005.) But the real star of the film is, in my humble opinion, Joan Baez.

If you don’t know who Joan Baez is, you’ll want to know after this film. Baez may never have reached the superstardom of Dylan, but she’s a beloved figure in American music nonetheless. As a folk singer-songwriter in the 60s and 70s, she was known for writing and covering protest songs about social justice. In addition to touring with Dylan, she also dated him in the early 60s, a relationship which inspired her most famous song, 1975’s “Diamonds & Rust.” Two years ago, Baez was finally inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, for which she delivered a spectacular speech.

Baez sparkles in Rolling Revue, both in her interviews from present-day (she and Dylan are both 78) and in the archival footage. In one scene from 1975, the two croon “I Shall Be Released,” and you can hear how perfectly their voices blend.

“Joan Baez and me could sing anything,” commented a present-day Dylan, in a rare moment of sentimentality. “We could sing together in our sleep. As a matter of fact, lot of times when I was sleeping, I’d hear her voice.”

The present-day Baez had a slightly-less-rosy view of the Rolling Revue tour, and she had little patience for Scorsese’s attempts to dig up nostalgic anecdotes. (“Get to the point,” she implored, after one particularly leading question.) But one delightfully shady anecdote from Baez stands out—the time she dressed up as Dylan, to see if people might treat her differently. Spoiler alert: They did.

“I’d put these beard markings and mustache on”, recalled Baez, “Then I’d put his hat on, and some white face”. The disguise fooled several roadies, who, Baez discovered, tripped over themselves to give “Dylan” whatever he wanted.

“I said, ‘Gimme some coffee,'” Baez said with a laugh, “and instantly, people got me some coffee. ‘Do you want this? Do you want this? Do want milk? Do you want sugar?'”

“They treated me the way they treated Bob,” marveled Baez. “It was amazing!”

And that’s the story of how Joan Baez has been calling out celebrity worship culture since 1975. All hail the queen of shade.

Anna Menta, Decider, Jun 12, 2019