Dec. 29, 2011 - Radio Free Nortwest - H.A. Covington
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Sean O'Farrell
It's December the 29th, 2011.
I'm Harold Covington, and this is Radio Free Northwest.
Radio Free Northwest.
In another month or so, Radio Free Northwest will have been on the air for two whole years, and that's long enough for us to begin establishing some traditions.
So far, we have two traditions here.
On the nearest podcast to Halloween, I play ghostly and creepy Halloween-type music.
And on the last podcast of each year, we give you a more or less all-music program, wherein I replay some of my own favorite musical cuts for the past, in whatever order I feel like presenting them.
This podcast will probably run about two hours, by the way.
That's what it ran last year.
I could, of course, just be a disc jockey and spin the platters, so to speak, but I think I need to try and figure out some logical format or sequence to present these musical pieces in.
So this year I'm going to begin with one of my own fortes, which is Aryan history.
I'm going to take you folks on a little musical walk through time here.
By the way, selecting the repertoire for this section was really hard to do because if I replayed every song I've played on here over the past two years that had any historical significance, the program would probably run for about five hours.
I finally whittled this segment down to ten songs, so let me give you a little rundown on them.
Our race is thousands of years old, but we only actually have preserved about a thousand or so years of our musical heritage intact because it was only around the turn of the 11th century that people began writing down music in a tablature form that we can read today.
And that was mostly monks recording liturgical music for the church.
People like Hildegard von Bingen, whom we've had on here before, so forth and so on.
Later on, many of the ballads of troubadours were written down in medieval music tablature, which scholars can read.
And by the 16th century, music was written down pretty much as we know it in modern times.
And we also know a fair amount about the instruments used, and so we can reproduce this sound today.
One of these days it's possible that archaeologists and historians may discover some horde of ancient Greek or Roman musical tablature that we can figure out, and so then we can listen to the vibes that Julius Caesar used to play at his orgies.
But for now, our musical history that we can actually listen to begins with the church.
Accordingly, I was tempted to start off here with a Gregorian chant, but most of those are pretty long.
And then there's the infamous short American attention span to take into consideration.
So what I've done is I've selected ten historical songs down through the centuries, beginning with one medieval dance number from the 13th century, and then going on through the ages right into modern times.
By human nature being what it is, most of these songs are about war and conflict and violence of various kinds, because that's mostly what people sing about.
But we also have one of the most famous love songs of all time from the 16th century.
Wherein a young man, who has been thrown out of a whorehouse by the bouncer, sits in the mud outside and sadly and eloquently sings to his lady-love inside.
Not many people know that in Shakespeare's time, green sleeves was a slang term for the lady of the evening, who were required by law to publicly identify their trade by wearing certain distinctive garments, in this case green sleeves, so they couldn't pass themselves off as respectable ladies.
Anyway, here's a musical walkthrough time for you.
Thank you.
you Thank you.
It would be a serious mistake indeed to harbour the impression that our Scottish ancestors spent their hatred and their energies on fighting only the English.
In between times they kept in shape by fighting amongst themselves.
Thus it was that in the year 1411, Donald of the Isles, with 10,000 of his fighting men, descended on Dingwall and Inverness to lay claim to the lands of Ross.
And come ye pray the healings Man come ye all the way I saw Macdonald and Oz men as they come in frae sky way.
And come you near or near enough did ye their numbers see?
Come tell to me, John Heelan, man, what might their numbers be?
Well, I come in by the Garryland, doing by nether haw.
I saw Macdonald and Ozmen marching to Harlem Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray The healing men with their long swords Filling at us foose air And they drift back with lolling men Three acres bred for mare Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Lord for this day to his brother to say Oh brother, didn't he you see?
They've driven us back on Anka's site And we'll be forced to flee Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Oh no, no, no, my brother dear This thing it might be You'll take your good sod in your hand And you'll come in with me Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray The first blow that Lord for destruct The sword ran in in hell The second blow Lord for destruct The great Macdonald fell Way-a-durum-a-doo with
a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Stick a cry free among the heeling men When you see their leader fall They catted him and buried him along By fair-hard law Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and
a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Way-a-durum-a-doo with a tree and a drum A-durum-a-doo-drum-dray Drum, la-do, drum, dray.
Drum, la-do, drum, dray.
Alas, my love, you do me wrong To treat me so discourteously And I have loved you so long, delighting in your company.
Green sleeves is all my joy.
Green sleeves is my delight.
Green sleeves is my heart of gold.
And who but my lady, green sleeves.
Amen.
you Thank you.
you I sent thee kerchiefs for thy head, all wrought fine and gallantly.
The End Is my delight.
Green sleeves is my heart of gold.
And who but my lady green sleeves.
Bygone was all the grassy green Sleeves of satin hanging by
That made thee be our harvest queen Yet thou wouldst not love me Green sleeves is all my joy Green sleeves is my delight Green sleeves is my heart of gold But
my lady, green sleeves.
Green sleeves, now fare thee well adieu.
God, I pray, will prosper thee.
And I am still thy lover too.
Come once again and love me Greensleeves is all my joy Greensleeves is my delight Greensleeves is my heart of gold
Who bought my 80 green sleeves?
The End
The year was 1778 How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now A letter of mark came from the king To the scummiest vessel I've ever seen God damn them all I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold We'd fire no
guns, shed no tears Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier The last of Barrett's privateers Oh, well, Sid Barrett cried the town How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now For twenty brave
men, oh fishermen Who would make for him the antelopes crew God damn them all I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold We'd fire no guns, shed no tears Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier The last of Barrett's privateers The antelope's sloop was a sickening sight How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now She'd have a list to the port and her sails in rags And the cook in the scummiest With
the staggers and jags God damn them all God damn them all I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold We'd fire no guns, shed no tears Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier The last of Barrett's privateers On the king's birthday we put to sea How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now We were 91 days to Montego Bay Pumping like madmen all the way God damn them
all I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold We'd fire no guns, shed no tears Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier The last of Barrett's privateers On the 96th day we sailed again How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now When a bloody great Yankee hold in sight with our crack Goddamn them all.
I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold.
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears.
Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of Barrett's brava tears.
The Yankee lay low down with gold.
I wish I was in Sherbrooke now.
She was broad and fat and loose in stays, but to catch her took the antelope to hold it.
Goddamn them all.
I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold.
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears.
Now I'm a broken man on Alipax Pier, the last of Barrett's privateers.
Then at length we stood two cables away.
I wish I was in Sherbrooke now.
Heart-cracked four-pounders made an awful din, but with one fat ball he yanked over sin.
Goddamn them all.
I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold.
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears.
Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of Barrett's bright of tears.
The antelope shook and pitched on her side.
I wish I was in Sherbrooke now.
Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs, and the main truck carried off both men eggs.
Goddamn them all.
I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold.
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears.
Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of Barrett's bright of tears.
So here I lay in my 23rd.
shed no tears Now I'm a broken man We're
Shades be crowned through Good women be left in sorrow As the mainsails unfurled Our kisses be heard Of the endless thoughts of tomorrow From the mouth of the fog Be filled with the soil Down below the decks leave a light A dorky
scream driven out from a dream Of a vision of old Rotterdam Last summer the crew Reduced out the group Dan O'Connor was down with a fever Sixty rebels today Bound the board, not even How many would each save a receiver?
Woah, he wish I was back home in Derry Woah, he wish I was back home in Derry
We'd kiss him to hell This half our old fuck this world Our shit dance like Mars in the fire White horses rode high as the devil passed by Taking souls to Higgies by Tewire
Five weeks out to sea We were known for the free We were buried our comrades each morning And in our own sight we were lost in a time And we slept without our end
Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry
Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry
Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry
Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry
Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry Oh, he wish I was back home in Derry So the home we made together Was wherever we could ride And
beds, floors, and hard, cold, rough Wherever we could hide And I come to know my lover He was a leader amongst men His commands are large and grown And they all looked up to him And sometimes when
I lay with him I'd look into his face And he looked so calm and peaceful there With all the hate erased He wasn't hearing dying groans Or hearing women cry He wasn't seeing bloody ground Or the flames that lit the sky He'd sleep in peace And it was me Who'd wonder how and why
Well, he's gone off to Kentucky now And left me here alone But he said, "Don't
worry, Kate You know I'll soon be coming home" And it seems like only yesterday I heard Will Quintra cry As he sang out "Katey, oh dear Katey Will you be my home dear God?" He sang out to
Katie, oh dear Katey Will you ride by Pondra's side?
I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man I'm not sure if you're a man How do you do
private William?
Like Brian?
Do you mind?
And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen when you joined the dead heroes in nineteen fifteen.
Well, I hope you died quickly, and I hope you died keen.
Or Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they sound the fight lowly?
Did the rifles fire all year as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing the last post in chorus?
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined.
And though you died back in 1915, to some faithful heart are you forever 19?
How are you?
a stranger without even a name, enshrined forever behind a glass frame, in an old photograph torn and tattered and stained, and fading to yellow in a bound leather frame, do they beat the drum slowly?
Did they sound the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er you As they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing a last post in chorus?
Did the pipes lay the flowers of the forest?
Did the pipes lay the flowers?
the plow, no gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it is still no man's land.
The Did they sound the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing the last post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the flowers of the fathers?
I can't tell.
What wonder now am I bright?
Do all those who lie here know why they've died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
The suffering, the sorrow, and the glory, the shame, the killing.
The dying, it was all done in vain.
For Willie McBride, it all happened again.
And again, and again, and again, and again.
Do they beat the drums slowly?
Do they sound the fight lowly?
Do the rifles fire o 'er you as they load?
Did the bugle sing the last post in chorus?
And the pipes play the flowers and the flowers.
The water is high, the water is high.
The water is high.
It has been a long time for the river.
It has been a long time for the river.
The water is high.
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The end of the day.
Whichever road he tried to take, they'd get him sure his fate.
Son, his daddy told him, make this run your last.
Your tank is filled with hundred proof.
You're all tuned up in gas.
Now don't take any chances.
If you can't get through, I'd rather have you back again than pull that mountain dew.
And there was thunder, thunder, over thunder road.
Thunder was his engine and white lightning was his load.
There was moonshine, moonshine, it crunches the devil's thirst.
The Lord, they swore they'd get him, but the devil got him first.
Roaring out of Harlan, revving up his mill, he shot the gap at Cumberland and screened by Maynardville.
With T-Man on his taillight, roadblocks up ahead, a mountain boy took roads that even angels feared to tread.
Blazing right through Knoxville, out on Kingston Pipe, then right outside of Beard, there they made the fatal strike.
He left the road at 90, that's all there is to say.
The devil got the moonshine and the mountain boy.
The law they never got in, cause the devil got in first.
Well, they never got him, cause the devil got him.
Thunder, thunder, thunder told.
We began our excursion into musical time travel with a hot little number that was top of the pops in Spain back in the 1200s, called Dumpate, played by those medieval metal rockers, Codex Calixtanis.
Then we step forward to 1411 with the Battle of Harlow by the Carys.
Then came Greensleeves, of course, from the time of Will Shakespeare.
Now, the closer we get to modern times, the more music we had to choose from.
And from the late 18th and early 19th centuries, we heard Barrett's Privateers by Canada's greatest folk singer, Stan Rogers.
La Marseillaise, which is the French national anthem from their guillotine days back around 1790.
And finally...
Back Home in Derry, which is from a group called Hair of the Dog, and it's about Robert Emmett's revolt in Ireland in 1803 and what happened to the Irish rebels who were captured.
And, of course, we have played a big selection of Civil War music before on here, but for a little romantic human interest, this time I went with Quantrill's Wife, sung by Kathy Barton and Dave Parra.
Then, from World War I, we heard Willie McBride, sung by Makeham and Clancy.
Then came the Horst Vessel song, of course, and everybody listening to this ought to know what that is and where that's from.
And finally, as a curiosity item from the 1950s, we concluded with the theme song from the movie Thunder Road, sung by the actor Robert Mitchum, who also starred in the movie.
One of the problems with a show like this one is that inevitably, in making my choices as to what to play, due to time limitations, I'm going to leave out a lot of people's favorite songs.
And I understand that for weeks after the show airs, I'm going to be getting emails saying, Hurl, hurl, why didn't you play this or that or the other of my favorite numbers and so forth and so on.
I've already used up almost 45 minutes of airtime with the first segment, and the second segment I want to do will probably take at least that long.
However, before I do get into the second section, I need to stop and play some modern white rock and pop music, because I know if I don't, and if I play nothing but actual, for real, historically Aryan music with archaic things like tunes and lyrics and whatnot, I'm going to have a mob of skinheads marching on my house with pitchforks and torches.
And before I proceed, however, I can't resist letting the cat out of the bag.
I'm going to tell you guys a dirty little secret about skinhead rock.
To be brutally honest, a lot of it just plain isn't very good.
Now, many times this isn't the fault of the band.
You have to remember that our kind of music doesn't get offered the big recording contracts from the Jewish rock and roll industry, along with the big sound studios and hypersensitive mics and woofers and tweeters and, above all, the mixing boards and engineers.
A lot of skinhead and oi music is recorded in some guy's garage in Bradford or Surbiton or recorded directly off the floor at clubs and pubs and whatnot with almost no mixing at all.
And that's why most of the time all you hear is the loud clanging guitars and you can barely understand the lyrics at all.
But it's still kind of hard to get around the fact that a lot of these oi and skinhead garage bands frankly get an A for effort and enthusiasm and a C- for musical talent.
There are, however, some exceptions.
Look at the state of our land today The white population has no say Too many indigenous
jockeys and queens The rock is increasing every year Yeah.
You gotta fight for a white country!
People see you marching and they say, "No way!" But I never take no notice of what they say You better make a stand!
You gotta fight for a white country Yeah, you gotta fight Always persecuted
for the clothes we wear Banned from the pubs cause we got your hair
Police bugging in, trying to take it by force When only one is screwdriver on the rims You gotta fight for a white country You gotta fight for a white country
A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A
white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country A white country The White Man built schools to educate the young Drugs and classroom violins
corrupted, nothing's done The White Man built the houses and the streets the best they could Now the streets are unsafe and flow with British blood The White Man trained the doctors to keep the nation off its knees Now a prominent health service is smoked with baby disease What's happened to our country?
I just don't understand What's happened to our people?
When they're stuck in the sand What's the world so prosperous?
Healthy, brown and free When is it all done?
What's left for you and me?
We designed a base force to keep disorder at bay There's one law for
them, looks like we've been betrayed The White Man developed transports to take us to our door But we're not free to travel in safety anymore The White Man built economy to help our nation grow Now greedy individuals are breaking in the door What's happened to our country?
I just don't understand What's happened to our people?
When they're stuck in the sand What's the world so prosperous?
Healthy, brown and free When is it all done?
What's left for you and me?
The White Man built the sand The ones went through the land The
red, the white and blue The colours never mean nothing They stole the pride from you Our money's way to gain them The luxury they hold And the slay of stone The British workers would never touch their goal It's time we turn the tables Start working on the best But the British people buzz now And the freeers mark this mess What's happened to our
country?
I just don't understand What's happened to our people?
Whether you're stuck in the sand Loose your words to prosper And I'm being proud and brave Would you be on the dark So I'll stand for you at me I'll stand
for you at me Everywhere I go All the scum surrounds me I'm in the sea of
black people That fucking drowns me Everywhere I go Black people I'm so fucking love Could you say we're the same I don't fucking think so I'm a racist But niggas hate it I'm a racist
When I walk the streets It disgusts me We're being overrun by fucking
monkeys Everywhere I go Our lands have sunk so low It's time to go It's time to face the road And let them know I'm a racist The niggas hate it I'm a racist I'm a racist To better places
We'll see you next week.
I never wanted to see another black face.
I'm a racist.
The niggas hate it.
I'm a racist.
You better face it.
Everywhere I go, all the stuff surrounds me.
I'm here to see the black people that fucking drowns me.
Everywhere But you can say we're the same.
I don't fucking think so.
I'm a racist.
I go, black people are so fucking low.
I'm a racist.
The niggas hate it.
I'm a racist.
You're better faces.
I'm a racist.
The niggas hate it.
I'm a racist.
You're better faces.
Yeah, you black bastards I'm
out.
I'm out.
I'm out.
Get out there and do something today.
Our enemies are capitalists, communists as well.
Both these forms of evil are ringing our death bell.
We'll salute the troops of yesterday who fought the Marxist plague.
We will carry on your fight as the white man off today.
Tomorrow is always too late.
We should never sit around and wait.
Tomorrow is always too late.
Get out there and do something today.
We must remain true to our cause for comrades thrown in jail.
For their sake and sacrifice, we must never fail.
For Grey and Pierce and Coon and Toon and Erickson as well.
For the lonely man in Spandall.
Our efforts they must tell.
Tomorrow is always too late.
We should never sit around and wait.
Tomorrow is always too late.
Tomorrow is always too late.
Go out there and do something today.
3 you you you That was White Country, and What Have We Got by No Remorse, followed by a cut called I'm a Racist, and I'm sorry to say that I don't seem to have recorded who did that one on my computer here, although I'm sure someone in the audience will fill us in.
And finally, you just knew I had to have some saga in here somewhere.
Alright, now for the second segment of this podcast, and this is going to take a little explaining.
It's also going to sound at least somewhat conceited and narcissistic, and I need to deal with that.
Like all writers, I've managed to accumulate some fans down through the years for my Northwest Independence novels, some of them quite dedicated.
Not as many fans, obviously, as somebody like Tom Clancy or Stephen King, but a few.
This started back in the mid-2000s when I'd just completed A Distant Thunder, and so periodically, down through the years, one of the things I've done is to create sort of unofficial soundtracks for the five Northwest novels.
Initially, these took the form of cassette mixtapes of certain music that I used when I was writing the novels to kind of set the mood for certain scenes and certain characters.
These are the songs I would be playing on my Walkman, or later on on my Windows Media Player, when I was actually writing sections of the novel on my computer.
You might say that certain scenes and characters in the novel had theme music, and I used to share that theme music with those who liked the books by sending them cassette tapes.
These songs also had a second purpose.
Being a 21st century American, and a largely isolated and crotchety old man, without much socialization except blockbuster video, I think in terms of movies, and it occurred to me that on the wild off chance that anyone ever does make a movie out of any of my novels, some of these songs would make good soundtracks.
Some of my more obsessed fans, and believe it or not, even a minor writer like myself in this day and age is capable of accumulating a few groupies, have wanted me to do a whole CD of this Northwest novel theme music and sell it.
And I won't do that.
I joke about Harold's narcissism, but seriously, that would be a little too full of myself for me to be comfortable with it.
My name isn't David Duke.
But I'm not joking.
I really have had requests for this kind of material, and rather than do up a special program of Northwest Novel Soundtrack vibes, I decided I'd go ahead and stick a few on this annual all-music Radio Free Northwest so that I can satisfy those of you who are fans of my fiction.
And who are interested without using up too much time and effort on massaging my ego.
Instead of just playing a bunch of songs and then explaining to you what they were all about, in order for this to mean anything, I'm going to have to give you folks a brief explanation by the song, so to speak, so that you can remember which section of which novel I'm talking about.
We'll start with The Brigade.
Okay, you remember at the beginning of The Brigade when Zach Hatfield and the original Trouble Trio were first starting up?
And they make their first strike at those two Jews at Rigoletto's Beanery, and then when the FBI agents come into town the next day, the boys are tracking them and stalking them through Astoria, and then they finally run them down out on Highway 30. I know few, if any of you, have ever been to Astoria, but try to imagine a small northwest town where something really serious has happened.
And the Feebs are rolling all out and about and waving guns and making noise, but everybody in town knows that the boys are out there somewhere, and it's not over, and so everybody's staying inside, staying out of the center of town, and the Feds slowly start looking around themselves and realizing that something is wrong, and maybe, just maybe, the worm is about to turn, turn on them.
This is Fever Ray.
Fever Ray.
Take me home for the storm.
Velvet lines to keep us all in.
Whispering.
Morning keep the streets empty for me.
Thank you.
I once had a fan email me, and in fact send me an audio file for Radio Free Northwest, telling me that he was in love with Kiki McGee from the Brigade.
Of course, as those of us who read the book know, Kiki had a secret.
You might consider this next song to be Kiki's theme.
This is Madonna.
Will it grow cold?
The secret that I hide will ever hold.
How will they hear?
When will they learn?
How will they know?
A man can tell a thousand lies.
I will learn my lesson well.
Hope I live to tell the secret I have learned.
Till then, it will burn inside of me.
I will learn my lesson well.
If I live to tell the secret I knew that.
Will I ever have a chance again?
A man can tell a thousand lies.
I will learn my lesson well.
I will learn my lesson well.
Another scene from the brigade that keeps popping up in my mind is all that riding around Portland that Kiki did when she was chauffeuring the NVA in her taxi and in other vehicles that the Army provided as a prospect, tossing the odd Molotov cocktail, beating up the odd neocon school teacher, shooting the odd interracial couple down the street, that kind of fun stuff.
We need a real rouser to convey the spirit of life in the fast lane with the volunteers.
We need a real rouser to convey the spirit of life in the fast lane with the volunteers.
We need a real rouser to convey the spirit of life in the fast lane with the volunteers.
I wish they were happy and I lost my lane.
I'm at the top fields and lost my lane.
That was the Dropkick Murphys, by the way.
The Brigade probably has more significant characters in it than any of the other Northwest novels, one of them being a couple of high school kids who set out to avenge the death of a white girl at the hands of a nigger basketball player, and they end up with the NVA fighting for freedom.
This is Eric and Annette's Theme.
Don't the hours go shorter as the days go by?
We never get to stop and open our eyes One minute you're waiting for the sky to fall And next you're dazzled by the beauty These
fragile bodies of touch and taste This fragrant skin,
this hair like Where is God?
Lovers in a dangerous time Lovers in a dangerous time Lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time
When your lover's in a dangerous time Sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime Nothing worth having comes without some kind
To fight Gotta kick in the darkness Till it bleeds daylight Lovers In a dangerous time Lovers In a dangerous time Lovers In a dangerous time
Lovers In a dangerous time We were lovers In a dangerous time We were lovers In a dangerous time
Lovers Lovers Lovers Lovers Lovers In a dangerous time Lovers In a dangerous time Lovers In a dangerous time And that group is called Barenaked Ladies.
Finally, one that I thought about a lot and actually used several pieces as mood music when I was writing this section of the novel was The Oscar Night Massacre.
I really needed to figure out what would be the best theme song for that incident.
Music to slaughter Jews by, so to speak.
There were several candidates, but for an actual background theme for that sequence, if a movie ever really is made...
I think it would be hard to do better than this number from the Finnish metal band, Corpaclani.
Music by Ben Thede
Music by Ben Thede Music by Ben Thede Thank you.
A Distant Thunder is the only Northwest novel that's written in the first person.
It's written by a so-called trailer trash kid, the Washington version of a redneck who becomes a Northwest volunteer.
I've had a lot of people tell me that it starts out slow.
I frankly don't get that, since it starts with old man Shane cursing America and Francis Fukuyama.
And then goes on to the usual litany of complaint about everything that's wrong in this country, complaint, complaint, complaint, that most right-wingers indulge into the exclusion of all else.
But anyway, this is Steve Earle with Shane Ryan's theme.
I was bombed by Papa Son Juan and I had a smoking gun.
Now some of you would live through me, then lock me up and throw away the key.
Or just find a place to hide away and hope that I'll just go away.
I feel alright.
I feel alright tonight.
I feel alright.
I feel alright tonight.
I'll bring you precious contraband and ancient tales from distant lands.
Conquerors and concubines and conjurers from darker times.
Betrayal and conspiracy, sacrilege and heresy.
I feel alright.
I feel alright tonight.
I feel alright tonight.
I feel alright.
I feel alright tonight.
I got everything you want to need, you'll knock your heart, your strength.
I ask you questions, tell your lies, criticize and sympathize.
Yeah, but be careful what you wish for, fix.
I've been to hell and now I'm back again.
I feel alright.
Yeah, I feel alright.
Yeah, I feel alright.
I feel alright, man.
I feel alright.
I feel alright.
We'll be right back.
Of all my female characters, it seems to be a three-way tie in reader popularity between Nightshade from A Mighty Fortress, Kiki McGee from The Brigade, and Rooney Wingfield from A Distant Thunder.
Of course, Rooney is a genuine redneck girl from South Carolina, so she and Shane make a matched pair.
This is Rooney's Theme.
Oh, I wish I was a chewed apple hanging on a tree.
Every time I love walk by, take a little bite of me.
Take a bite of me, my love, take a bite of me.
Every time I love walk by, take a little bite of me.
You ride the old gray mare, I'll ride the drone.
You get there before I do, leave my guy alone.
Train on the island, heard that whistle blow.
Thought I heard someone say, yonder comes my home.
Oh, I'm going across the mountain, going on a swing.
When I get to the other side, I hear my true love sing.
Don't you hear that banjo sing?
Wish that guy was mine.
Don't you hear that banjo sing?
I wish that guy was mine.
Oh, Charlie E is a nice young man.
Charlie E is a dandy.
Oh, Charlie E is a nice young man.
I'm going to feed the girls on candy.
Going down river, feed my sheep.
Going down river, Charlie.
Going down river, feed my sheep.
Gotta feed them all on barley.
Hey!
Oh, I wish I was a pineapple hanging on a tree.
Every time a love walks by, take a little bite of me.
Take a bite of me, my love.
Take a bite of me.
Every time a love walks by, take a little bite of me.
Woo!
Woo!
Thank you.
A fairly lengthy section in A Distant Thunder describes what Shane and the Wingfields and Red Morehouse are doing during the long period of preparation and legal party work in the fictional town of Dundee, Washington.
All the leafleting and posturing and passing out business cards and knick-knacks and flag actions where tricolor flags are run up everywhere and psychological warfare is being waged against the enemy.
And meanwhile, the party is quietly accumulating all the resources it needs to eventually wage revolutionary war against Zog.
That phase is very necessary.
We have to get it right, and I wish you guys would give me the bodies and the resources so that we can get started on it.
Anyway, I think this conveys the spirit and the feel of when you've got a legal group going well, and I've seen that happen on occasion.
This is from the Perdition movie soundtrack.
Thank you.
you One of the scenes from A Distant Thunder that I got the most favorable reaction from was the field wedding between Rooney and Shane, including their wedding reception of buckets of KFC and soft drinks, and the requirement that they spend the last half of their wedding night on guard duty.
But at least they get to stand watch together.
This is from a stupid movie, which I won't even name, but it will pass for Rooney and Shane's love theme.
Here I am, this is me.
There's nowhere else on earth I'd rather be Here I am, it's just me and you Tonight we make our dreams come true It's a new
world, it's a new start It's a life with the beating of young hearts It's a new day, it's a new plan I've been waiting for you Here I am Here I am
Here I am Here we are We've just begun And after all this time, my time has come Yeah, here we are Still going strong Right here in the place where we belong
Oh, it's a new world, it's a new start It's a life with the beating of young hearts It's a new day, it's a new day, it's a new plan I've been waiting for you Here I am Here I am
Thank you.
There's a few funerals in the Northwest novels.
I won't get into them all so that I don't give too much away to those who haven't read the books.
But one of the most tear-jerking scenes in the entire series, at least it seems to have gotten that reaction from some of the readers, is the burial of Rooney Ryan by her husband Shane and her volunteer comrades out on a lonely hillside after she's killed in action.
This is John Tams.
I thought I heard the colonel crying, march brave boys, there's no denying.
Cannons roaring, drums a beating, march brave boys, there's no retreating.
Lord, farewell.
If I should fall in far off battle, bugles called and rifles rattle.
Thoughts fly homeward, words unspoken, valiant hearts are oft times broken.
Long, farewell.
Will you go or will you tarry?
Will you wait or will you marry?
Would this moment last forever?
Kiss me now and leave me never.
Overwhelmed.
Okay, I'm running way long here, and looks like this is going to be more than two hours, and so I need to pick up the pace.
We're on to A Mighty Fortress now.
Remember one of the first scenes in the novel when Cody Brock and Bobby Bells and Jumpin' Jack Flash are riding downtown on a warm summer night in Seattle to whack some rock and roll asshole at some club?
You might call this Cody's First Hit.
It's the theme from the movie The Warriors.
The Warriors.
I've always liked this next number as a kind of musical descriptive of what life in the real NVA would be like, will be like someday.
It's especially applicable to the middle of A Mighty Fortress when Cody and Nightshade are bebopping around Seattle getting up to all kinds of mischief.
This is Talking Heads.
Talking Heads
Loaded with weapons, packed up and made it to go.
Heard up some gravesides, I'm on a highway, a place where nobody knows.
The sign of fire, off in the distance, I'm getting used to it now.
Live in a brownstone, I live in a ghetto, I make no longer this time.
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco, this ain't no fooling around.
You're time for dancing, I love it, I ain't got time for that now.
Let's get the message, to the receiver, for an answer someday.
I got free passports, bundle of visas, don't even know my real name.
Out of hell's side, books are lonely, everything's ready to roll.
Sleep in the daytime, work in the nighttime.
I never get home.
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco, this ain't no fooling around.
This ain't no micro, I'm screaming, screaming.
I ain't got time for that now.
This ain't no micro, this ain't no music, this ain't no fooling around.
No time for dancing, I love it, I ain't got time for that now.
Heard about Houston, heard about Detroit, heard about Pittsburgh, Pierre.
You ought to know not to stand by the window, somebody see you up there.
I got some verses, some peanut butter, to last a couple of days.
But I ain't got no speakers, ain't got no headphones, ain't got no records to play.
Watch me in college, why go to night school?
Cause I've been dipping this time.
Can't write a letter, can't say zero post-crime.
I ain't got nothing at all.
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco, this ain't no fooling around.
I'm not holding, I'm not holding, I'm not holding you, but I ain't got time for that now.
Trouble in transit, not through the roadblock, we've been leading up to cry.
We got computers, we're tapping phone lines, know that that ain't enough.
We dress like students, we dress like housewives, or in a suit and a tie.
Changed my hairstyle, so many times now.
What, what I look like?
You make me shiver, I feel so tender.
We make a pretty good tea.
Don't get exhausted, I'll do some dryness.
You ought to get too sick.
Burn all my notebooks, oh, why could all my notebooks?
They won't help me survive.
My destiny, honey, burns at the furnace.
The burning gives me a lot of time.
Thank you.
Thank you.
You remember the helicopter landing scene at the Longview Conference?
I once had a guy email me and tell me that he had dreams about riding on that helicopter into history one day.
Anyway, when the back ramp lowered down and the NVA delegation to the Peace Conference marched out laughing at Cody's motel joke, remember all the Russian nattering just before that about the music?
This is what was playing.
It's The Great Gate of Kiev by Modest Mussorgsky.
The Great Gate of Kiev
The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev
The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev
The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev The Great Gate of Kiev
The End
The End The End The End The End The End The End The End The End The End The End The End The End you Thank you.
In the novel, of course, when the Northwest tricolor finally goes up over Longview, the speakers are playing the old hymn by Martin Luther, A Mighty Fortress is Our God.
But as I said, I've often envisaged in my mind a movie version of my books, and in this imaginary movie, the raising of the blue, white, and green flag of freedom over the Northwest is accompanied by a kind of montage of the people and events who brought the revolution about, accompanied in the background by this song from Saga.
piano plays softly The sun on the meadow is summer we walk And the stag in the forest runs free But
gathered together And the Rhine gives its gold
to the sea And
It's great all is closing his eyes And the blossom embraces the beat But soon sets the whisper rise
I swear I asked, tomorrow belongs to me Tomorrow belongs to me Now
fatherland, fatherland show was the sign Your children have been waiting to see The morning will come when the world is mine Tomorrow belongs to me Tomorrow
belongs to me Tomorrow belongs to me Tomorrow belongs to you you you
It opens up with the Ravenhill ambush itself, with the dead heroes of the Olympic flying column lying on the hillside.
I figure a good opening in the movie version would be this piece from Sinead O'Connor.
Sinead O'Connor
Sinead O'Connor Thank you.
Another well-known scene from The Hill of the Ravens is the helicopter attack when General Bill Vitale takes his boys over the border in order to rescue a busload of white refugees from the pursuing Mexicans.
I think this is a good soundtrack to help you imagine white copters sweeping out of the sky and blasting beaners and bringing our own people home, a nice heroic-sounding theme for the heroes that we will become again one day.
Ironically, this piece is called Homeland.
Homeland.
The end of the year is the end of the year.
Then there's the final scene in the Hill of the Ravens, when Don Redmond takes his daughter out to the Raven Hill Monument, and together they read the names of the dead volunteers off the Cenotaph, and then the Raven flies out over the horizon, over the free white land that their sacrifice has created.
This is the theme from Miller's Crossing.
The End
Thank you.
Okay, I'm way over the time limit now.
This is the longest Radio Free Northwest ever, and I hope I can even FTP this file.
It's going to be so huge.
But before we go, one last song.
This being the only one I'm willing to play so far from Freedom's Sons, which is still in the creative process of being written, so to speak.
Now remember that the book that has been published now is actually only Volume 1, and it's going to be followed by Volume 2 within a year or so.
My female characters always seem to gather a lot of attention from readers, and we have one in Freedom's Sons, Volume 1, who will probably join Rooney and Nightshade and Kiki and Trudy in my pantheon of Northwest goddesses, so to speak.
This is Georgia's Theme from Freedom Sons, Volume 1. It's sung by Cyndi Lauper.
Music
Sometimes I'm afraid when you go Sometimes I'm afraid when you come home Underneath it all I think I'm afraid when there's nothing wrong We're
Could you be the one comes rushing in?
There's something that I never told When I find myself stepping off There's something that I never told I'm a pedestal.
I'm a fierce believer, afraid to fall.
But if I was clear to your love, could I be your reckless friend?
And if I was helpless, could you be the one
comes rushing in Sometimes I'm afraid of the dark I can't find the light in my heart
I can feel my hand Pushing away from your heart as I can But if I was fearless, could I be your reckless friend?
And if I was helpless Could you be the one who comes rushing in?
guitar solo
Sometimes I'm afraid when
you go guitar solo Okay, time for me to sign off, finally.
And we'll be back next week with another episode of Radio Free Northwest that's the normal content in length.
This program is brought to you by the Northwest Front, Post Office Box 4856, Seattle, Washington 98104.
Or you can go to the party's website at www.northwestfront.org.
This is Harold Covington, and I'll see you next week.