Lies bleached as the paradise he likes to think he owns. Where the crazy white man in the desert of his bones He flings the flames of solstice casting laughs into the dance Where the emperor of meaning is burning up his fortĪnd sits to warm his toes around a fire made up of useless thoughtĪnd when the children tempt him with the riddles of their trance Ride the coal-fire morning on the beach where all is born Here, Harper's armed with only an acoustic guitar, a voice, and a pen, inditing and singing elegantly surreally worded denunciations of societies based in predatory advantagism:Īnd the reins of coloured thunder of the stallion of the dawn A protest against the imperialism of the European and American civilizations. This is his third release, originally printed in 1970, and solidly demonstrates the power and integrity of his work, viscerally demonstrated in the sophomore track, I Hate the White Man, a dazzling provocation in thought, act, and word. The government will have its pound of flesh. Faking madness, he received a discharge, but not before being subjected to electro-shock therapy. Harper was influenced by gents like Huddie Ledbetter, Josh White, and Woody Guthrie and, amidst a stint in the Royal Air Force, discovered he had little sympathy for the ways of the capitalist world. Though he's at heart what we might call a fundamentalist folkie, Roy Harper may well be the most famous unknown guy in rock and roll, often referred to as "the longest running underground act in the world", so this push to re-acquaint him to the public is timely, especially at a moment when the industry and a number of its genres are in the doldrums.
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