James McMurtry

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Nov 15

JAMES McMURTRY OFFERS FREE MP3 IN SUPPORT OF OCCUPY MOVEMENT

JAMES McMURTRY OFFERS FREE MP3 IN SUPPORT OF OCCUPY MOVEMENTThe singer-songwriter is giving away mp3s of his iconic political masterpiece “We Can’t Make It Here” (from his award-winning Childish Things).  Fans are encouraged to use the free mp3 of “We Can’t Make It Here” to create videos supporting the Occupy movement.

Click here to download the free mp3.  

Send your stories and videos to mcmurtrysite@gmail.com, or post to the James McMurtry Facebook Page.  The best of the best will be featured here, on James McMurtry’s website. 

Message from James:We quit playing “We Can’t Make It Here” for a year or two.  We’re playing it again because it seems to still be relevant, and that pretty much sucks for everybody but us. I know the song is still relevant because people are camped out along Wall Street and in front of City Halls around the country and around the globe, demanding a solution to the problems I tried to give light to when I put my song out seven years ago. They are mixed in age and economic status. Some are young and idealistic. Some are old enough to have had their ideals trampled upon a time or two.  My son goes to school in the New York area and some of his friends have been involved in the protests. One was detained for nine hours without charge. This is not supposed to happen in our supposedly civilized nation. These people are getting roughed up, but the press only seems to notice when a victim of police brutality happens to be an Iraq war veteran. I’m guessing there are a good many vets in the crowd and the poor fellow in Oakland won’t be the only one hurt. I suppose the cops think the protesters are breaking the law.  Seems to me, the Bill of Rights guarantees the right to peaceful assembly. Meanwhile, the one percent, safely ensconced in the tall glass towers, does not have to break the law, because they get to write the law. I thought it was supposed to be the other way around, in a democracy. I think maybe my fourth grade teacher lied to me.

Let your voice be heard.

We Can’t Make It HereThere’s a Vietnam Vet with a cardboard signSitting there by the left turn lineFlag on his wheelchair flapping in the breezeOne leg missing and both hands freeNo one’s paying much mind to himThe V.A. budget’s just stretched so thinAnd now there’s more coming back from the Mideast warWe can’t make it here anymoreThat big ol’ building was the textile mill that fed our kids and it paid our billsBut they turned us out and they closed the doorsWe can’t make it here anymoreSee those pallets piled up on the loading dockThey’re just gonna sit there ’til they rot’Cause there’s nothing to ship, nothing to packJust busted concrete and rusted tracksEmpty storefronts around the squareThere’s a needle in the gutter and glass everywhereYou don’t come down here unless you’re looking to scoreWe can’t make it here anymore The bar’s still open but man it’s slowThe tip jar’s light and the register’s lowThe bartender don’t have much to sayThe regular crowd gets thinner each daySome have maxed out all their credit cardsSome are working two jobs and living in carsMinimum wage won’t pay for a roof, won’t pay for a drinkIf you gotta have proof just try it yourself Mr. CEOSee how far $5.15 an hour will goTake a part time job at one your storesBet you can’t make it here anymore There’s a high school girl with a bourgeois dreamJust like the pictures in the magazineShe found on the floor of the LaundromatA woman with kids can forget all thatIf she comes up pregnant what’ll she doForget the career, forget about schoolCan she live on faith? Live on hope?High on Jesus or hooked on dopeWhen it’s way too late to just say noYou can’t make it here anymore Now I’m stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart storeJust like the ones we made before’Cept this one came from SingaporeI guess we can’t make it here anymore Should I hate a people for the shade of their skinOr the shape of their eyes or the shape I’m inShould I hate ’em for having our jobs todayNo I hate the men sent the jobs awayI can see them all now, they haunt my dreamsAll lily white and squeaky cleanThey’ve never known want, they’ll never know needTheir shit don’t stink and their kids won’t bleedTheir kids won’t bleed in their damn little warAnd we can’t make it here anymore Will work for food will die for oilWill kill for power and to us the spoilsThe billionaires get to pay less taxThe working poor get to fall through the cracksSo let ’em eat jellybeans let ’em eat cakeLet ’em eat shit, whatever it takesThey can join the Air Force, or join the CorpsIf they can’t make it here anymore So that’s how it is, that’s what we gotIf the president wants to admit it or notYou can read it in the paper, read it on the wallHear it on the wind if you’re listening at allGet out of that limo, look us in the eyeCall us on the cell phone tell us all why In Dayton Ohio or Portland MaineOr a cotton gin out on the great high plainsThat’s done closed down along with the schoolAnd the hospital and the swimming poolDust devils dance in the noonday heatThere’s rats in the alley and trash in the streetGang graffiti on a boxcar doorWe can’t make it here anymore
 
Posted at 12:41 PM