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Rust Belt Ballads

by Emmett Doyle

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Laine
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Laine My only complaint is not related to this album but about the fact you do not yet have all your Soundcloud catalogue here for me to support and stream! :)

There are a lot of artists that have the word "folk" attached to them but you are the real deal, musically and lyrically.
jwberns
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jwberns This album has been a powerful mix of hitting home and expanding my horizons. This is great music, both from and for the ongoing fight for universal human dignity. I don't know how he does it, but Emmett has a way of saturating each story he tells - even the ones far removed from his own experience - with a rich feeling of authenticity. Two thumbs up! Favorite track: P9.
wschoen
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wschoen I love the new sound of this song. Favorite track: Jane Doe.
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1.
D That combine is a war machine, the widest yet I ever seen A Bm said get big or get out, they’re weren’t lying G D plant to harvest, life is filled with making ends meet at the mill D A and gettin’ out is just the same as dyin’ D trawling fields like a golden sea, fish for corn or subsidies A Bm Fed into the silos by the tracks G D keep it going day by day, that river cuts the land away D A the rain digs out the soil deep and black A G D As long as the levees hold it back Bm G D And my father, said you’ve got two hands that you’re dealt Bm D A One you give freely when a neighbor falls behind Bm G And the other your hold pressed like a secret to your chest D Bm So when the plant was out he never crossed the line D A D Though said what’s yours is yours and mine is mine My great grandpa was a refugee when he came from the old country The King’s police were barking at his heels In the city or on the land, either way you’re living by your hands Either way the rich man finds a way to steal The cavalry corp’s killing floor, stolen in the Indian war The arrowheads still come up with the plow he built the cabin out of sod and a rugged cross to a murdered god To bless the crop, the sweat from off his brow But you get nothing without more blood anyhow God was a carpenter, built mangers for the shepherds. He was a shepherd, trying to lead his flock to fold But now the Romans own the rails, and these prices are the nails And they crucify us on a cross of gold They crucify us on a cross of Gold The quarter’s on the auction block, some man buys land he’ll never walk Another farm is fallen through the cracks Boom to boom and bust to bust, everyone does as they must Anything you’re given can be taken back You each grow more, the grain gets cheaper, costs get higher, debts get steeper Each auction is a player quit the game The kids look through us and their sights are trained onto the city lights Like a moth looks past the night into the flame But this life’s already burned, so who’s to blame? And the grass whispers the memories of a prairie And the glass offers confessions from the rye Waiting for the sun to set but it hasn’t got there yet Watch it sinking in the corn fields like the price The blood, God knows, has been the sacrifice
2.
Granite City 04:03
C am Where the Mississippi Water rolls along to meet the Sauk Dm F G And the river bank slopes down over the gray and rosy rock C Am Granite City said the sign; granite was the prison wall Dm F G C But I scarcely met a quarryman in the city there at all Chorus: F C Am Now the red and broken stone lies along the railroad tracks Dm F G The quarry days are gone, boys, they’re never coming back C Am Still the pulley gives a groan and the engine gives a roar Dm F G C But scarce a soul quarries stone in granite city anymore Oh the ringing and the blasting used to hammer through the day Where the men went down into the pits to haul the stone away And there were barges on the river and the train tracks that led To the builders in the city hauling off the St Cloud red Chorus But that was long ago, and time has rolled along The best stone’s all been taken, the industry’s moved on And what we’ve got left here, it isn’t like back then They’ve got new machines to do the work of fifty men Chorus Now the drag lines and conveyers rise up high above the scree The engineers here working for the Lockheed company And the big box and the strip mall sprout like weeds out of the ground The pits are all just swimming holes on the outskirts of town
3.
P9 04:02
Bm D Came back to Austin after the war, been on the line since ‘74, A Bm working on the killing floor, to make Hormel its spam Every year the line gets quicker, dollar’s cheaper, talk gets slicker Some guys numb themselves with liquor, or learn not to give a damn Hormel always says they’re squeezed, and the contract’s not a charity They’re paying half your wage at IBD, and we’re steady losing ground They wants cuts, so the bureaucrats dump it on the new hire’s backs Sign or we’ll give your plant the sack, and gut this company town Chorus G D Hard knocks on the killing floor taught us how to swing A Bm We ain’t beat even when we’re beaten down And you best not pull your punches when you’re comin’ for the king and you’re fighting for your life in a company town The new plant was a slaughterhouse, for the pigs and workers both, Contract gave us no way out, but hit them in the papers and put their dirty flows of cash, in the magnifying glass, Til the contract day was passed, and we took back our labor On the day we stopped their line, they moved the slaughter and assigned The other locals overtime, to scab against their brothers If we let them do it, then they’ve won- we have to shut it down as one But national said we’d go alone, no calling in the others Chorus When they brought the scabs, that winter day, we blocked them at the factory gate And it took more cops to clear the way, then they had in the whole station So Perpich played his favorite card, calling in the National Guard and you have to fight back twice as hard, when you’re under occupation We hit the road to spread the strain, up and down the Hormel chain And other towns joined the campaign, even if it meant the black list A strike’s a race to see who’ll last, between your belly and the boss’s cash But the checks came in for food and gas, to get the kids their breakfast Chorus March stormed in with the picket clash, and the Austin streets were choked in gas But cops and soldiers couldn’t smash, the spirit of P-9 But the national union bent the knee, to get peace with the company Put the local into trusteeship, to bust our picket line They put the scabs in the union hall, even stripped our mural off the wall, And when the end of the strike was called, sold out a generation Now old King Pork still wears the crown, to beat the packing worker down It’s hard times in a company town, hard times in a boss’s nation Chorus
4.
D G D Now Johnny old friend, you ain’t wrote in too long D A D; A Or if you did, nothing from you’d come through D G D Did you get the last package the boys and I sent D A D; A To you and the rest of your crew? A G D By Christ you and I weren’t yet middle school boys D G A Back when the long war began D G D Now Johnny come home from the Hindu Kush D A D; G A And the red hills of Afghanistan I remember the day when you first flew away How you looked like a prince among men And the lines round your eyes in the time you came back Before you get called up again And we watched you all fly off into the sky To the pride and the pomp of the band Now Johnny, come home from the Hindu Kush And the red hills of Afghanistan The generals say that it’s all going well Train the locals to fight once you’re gone But ain’t it the same they were saying back then When your dad took the boat from Saigon? Still the papers all say you’ll be out any day If it all goes according to plan Now Johnny, come home from the Hindu Kush And the red hills of Afghanistan And the dust and the rock tumble under your boots Where the Britons and the Russians have bled And echo the walls of the Khyber pass That we’ve marked with our living and dead Since Eliphston’s army fell at Gandamak They’ve been held to by no foreign hand So Johnny come home from the Hindu Kush And the red hills of Afghanistan (optional verse, omitted in recording) It’s a deadly Great Game that nobody wins And the pieces are blood, tears, and bones And the people here left, to harvest the storm From the wind that the players had sown Half a century of war, and how many more, Could anyone ask them to stand? Johnny come home, from the Hindu Kush And the red hills of Afghanistan Now the spring has come in, and the girls are out, And they’re taking the nights on the town But we can’t have a song and we can’t raise a glass without our boy Johnny around It’s too long you’ve wandered around Salang and Spin Gar And the long road around Lataband So Johnny come home from the Kindu Kush And the red hills of Afghanistan
5.
Em G D This summer’s been a hard one, Out on the picket line Em G D In the kitchen and infirmary they’ve also served the time Em G D Four months now we’ve been striking, the Teamsters and the rest Em G D Em Four months now we’ve been striking and they haven’t beat us yet Chorus: G D Em So rise up for the union, don’t give away to gloom Em G D Can’t you hear the marching feet, they’re beating out their doom Em G D Hear the young ones crying, neither sigh nor pine Em G D Em We’ll see that times get better when we hold that picket line When first that I moved out here after serving in the war They said there’s work for every hand you never need be poor But the winter found us standing asking work beside the wall There’s scarce enough to go around to keep a home at all Remember how last winter the coal yards won their share And on that day back in May we won the market square Now they’ve got us in the holding pens to try to keep us down They can hold us in the stockade but they’ll never hold the town Those Citizens Alliance boys, God damn them all to hell Likewise to Olson’s guardsmen and the city cops as well Who shot down Ness and Belor out on the market way I wish I had a rifle, I would give them all the same The winter’s coming fast now, the stores are getting thin Each passing dawn that’s coming on we’re closer to the win No Legion vigilantes, no knobsticks anymore We’ll win ourselves a union town this year of ‘34
6.
MN 13 02:17
Am C G Stearns County’s plains of waving grains Is the place that I was born D Em Am to till the field and cut the yield and grow the yellow corn Am D Em Come July, it’s up knee high And still it’s growing green D Em Am but tall and gold when it got cold was Minnesota 13 My father’s still would make its fill outside of Holdingford and ‘way out back in the sugar shack that’s where the stuff was stored to sell the brew, it helped us through some bitter times and lean for the very best in the whole midwest was Minnesota 13 Well that liquor’s name earned it fame, Spokane to Buffalo so they sent a man to make a plan to cut our whiskey flow That Mr. Kent was an awful gent each inch of him was mean and to every cop, he swore he’d stop our Minnesota 13 In every town the county ‘round the feds were on our tail they’d scour your car to find a jar and throw you into jail the town police had palms to grease, they’d always find us clean no search or raid could prove we made that Minnesota 13 Then the FBI they got some spies and they posted a reward so someone went to Mr. Kent and told them where it’s stored you go on up to Meyer’s farm be sure that you ain’t seen and out behind, that’s where you’ll find the Minnesota 13 So the lawmen came in the dead of night and never told a soul They gathered ‘round without a sound until they had us whole then they went out back and fired the shack, iit burned like gasoline like the flames of hell, we knew that smell was Minnesota 13 My dad got free in ‘33 and they tore that liquor law down But I keep my still up in the hills a mile outside of town for I’ve got no joy for Alphabet boys coming here to glean and I’ll drop the man that lays a hand on my Minnesota 13
7.
Drake Hotel 02:31
Am E Am E Am The wind in downtown Minneapolis skipped along over the snow Am E Am E Am And threw the white flakes on the sidewalk under the hotel window glow G Am G Am The red trucks dashed into the city, and tore through the night with a bell Am E Am E Am E Am The flakes tumbling higher were ash from the fire that gutted the Drake hotel Oh mama, your baby is crying- She’s crying for something to eat She’s wrapping herself in a coat too big, she’s shaking for loss of her heat We sleep under bridges and byways, we sleep on the park bench or bus The condos we build will never be filled, they’re a shelter for assets, not us Who tried to blow on the whistle? Who swept that into the dark? These projects are waiting for fixing, like a tinder box waits for a spark From the ramshackle gas-line explosions, to the tower fire on the West Bank We knew that this town was slow burning down, ‘fore the cops put a match to the tank Go walk by the camps on the Greenway tell me who is deserving or not Go walk by the cranes and the scaffold, tell me who’s gonna live in that lot? Go walk in the ruins and the rubble and answer me if you can tell Which pile of stones and burnt rebar bones was once the Drake Hotel?
8.
D G D High above the world there’s a billion dollar race D A D Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo D G D To see which robber baron will be first to buy to space D A D Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo A They’ve gone beyond electric cars, A there’s three more dicks among the stars A D They ought to be the first on Mars, it’s true D G A But when they reach the Hellas Basin, cut the line back to the station, D A D Let them stay on their vacation, too-ra-loo Branson rode the blast-off of a silo worth of oil Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo To get a better picture of the world as it broils Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo Some malcontents might drive a wedge and asked what happened to the pledge To rid us of the fuel that is our doom Although it’s slow in bearing fruit, he’s got the issue by the root He’ll do it by reducing it to fumes Bezos had a vision as he floated in the stars Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo And he thanks all of the peasants who have paid for him this far Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo He has witnessed the solution to industrial pollution And he’ll move all the production to the moon But Amazonians United will appear there uninvited To incite the lunar commune, too-ra-loo Now Musk has got a blueprint for a special Martian vault Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo To build his Teslas somewhere that the union cannot salt Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo But since he’s heard that Mars is red, he’s packed the rocket full of lead He’ll kill those commies all dead, white and blue If he goes then we don’t mind, Let him work an asteroid mine just leave the lithium behind, too-ra-loo If the state took these men’s taxes like they rob from me and you Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo They could buy us each a house and still see the cosmos, too Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo But since the space race privatized, we’ve been forced to economize, A rocket to the sun, we cannot do If they want to be an astronaut, the only flight plan that we’ve got Is gelignite propulsion, too-ra-loo
9.
Jane Doe 03:44
Am C G Jane Doe was brought in from off of the street C G Am Laid out on the table wrapped up in a sheet Am C G They wrote down her number without any name Am C G A woman was murdered and none was to blame In the north reservation there’s a chill in the air And the lines on the faces are heavy with care And the pain in your belly pounds hard on your brain And the whiskey like poisons runs thick in the veins Of the men with the money who come out to play, Drive up from the port to find out their prey With presents and promises in a young girl’s ear There’s more on the docks than you’ll ever get here And Duluth rusts away by the waves and the heights And the drunks take the streets in the red neon lights And the lake sinks the sun and the night turns to black Out past the harbor and the taconite stacks And the girls stand cold by the skeleton quay And they wait for the freight liners off Thunder Bay Across Gitchegumee they make for the shore To buy the red women and the red iron ore The harbor horn screams and the freighter boat lands The dollars and women are all changing hands And the sailors buy in where their money is right To play the great settler night after night Well I’ve heard it’s been said and I think it’s the truth That colony days never died in Duluth For three hundred years they’ve been bargained and sold To the soldier, the logger, and the iron boat hold They’ve been killed by the needle and killed by the knife They’ve been cut down so low that they’ve took their own life They’ve been put on the Earth in a bed made of thorns They’ve been sentenced to die since the day they were born
10.
D G D Dawn on out on the picket, in the morning light A G D The headlights from the scabs come hauling into sight D G D Damn their injunctions, damn their jails and fines A G D Whatever it takes, we’ll hold the line A G D All across the grain belt, we’re striking at John Deere A D A they’ve split our contracts up into first and second tier D G D But my father walked the line for me; I walk it with my son D A To get unity before this strike is done Chorus G D G Bm There’s those on the top of the world, and there’s those who build it below G D BM A But the time comes for us to be rising, and the times comes to reap what you sow D A BM G So keep your hand on the plough, hold the line and don’t give up now D A D We’ve planted our seeds, now we’re watching ‘em grow It’s a trick as old as time, it’s heartless and it’s cruel- Break us into tiers for the old divide and rule It’s pulling up the ladder on the workers still to come And pulling down the strength that we have won And the union’s not a monument you carve into the rock It’s a legacy you water or it withers on the stalk And power’s not in board rooms, the ballot, or the courts It’s in action when we cut production short Chorus God rest you, Dick Rich, and your memory lives on Killed out on the picket that morning in Milan A car came speeding up the street and fixed you in its lights And you died, fighting for our rights You gave your life for the workers- your people and mine And for those families toiling, generations on the line Now you’re in the space between us, your spirit’s in our hands When we strike, when the union takes a stand Chorus A month out on the line and we held that picket strong ‘Til the scabs from middle management couldn't carry on All our working lives, they’d ground us to our knees Until we stood on those lines in unity So whenever any worker is under an attack There’s a brother at your side and a sister at your back Because an injury to one is an injury to all We either stand together or we fall Chorus; repeat last two lines: D A BM G So keep your hand on the plough, hold the line and don’t give up now D A D We’ve planted our seeds, now we’re watching ‘em grow
11.
It was comin’ through the pine on that Norfolk-Southern line, steamin’ at three engines strong And sailed over the rails through East Palestine, a hundred and fifty cars long A fast-rolling mile of tankers, industrial chemical filled But there’s fire on the snow where those tanker cars glow, and there’s clouds brewin’ over the hills Chorus And that trains come rollin’ through like thunder And those shakes go rattlin’ through the stone And the spill they burned away, is settled in the clay And that ache is settin’ in my bones Life’s like a jail for the men who work the rail, its man and machine to the brink And those red tired eyes are telling no lies, the chain’s gotta crack in the links And the carriers cut every corner, and the workers they warned me and you But red and blue alike crushed the railroad strike, to keep the stock rollin’ through, Chorus There’s dead fish down in the river, There’s a reek of the fire on the wind And we’ve choked on that smoke that the chemicals stoked, And there’s poison working under your skin [Instrumental verse] Chorus
12.
Am E Am Mother in your shawl of black, G C The moon shines on the water Am G Em But tonight where does the moonlight C E Am Fall upon your daughters? My eldest’s gone into the city The gardens there she’s weeding Her hands are torn from rocks and thorns, And her white fingers bleeding My second listens from the prison To the wailing siren Hands in chains, her hands in chains, She wears a wreath of iron My youngest’s gone into the forest Where wildflowers are growing Black and red, their petals shed And on the night winds blowing On the winds the seeds are searching, And rooting where they fall Soon they’ll climb as wild vines, Over the prison walls
13.
Em D C B7 The sun beats like a hammer in the south of California 4 cents a sheet at piece work, for the sixty hour week The subs pushed out the unions, to build the little boxes, And hired from the border men to hang the drywall sheets The border’s not a place; it’s a weight that you carry It’s a way to keep you quiet, so you don’t get put away It’s an agent of the boss, with his rifle, always watching Oversees you when you’re working, comes for you on pay day Chorus C D Em When the workers said Ya basta! Enough is enough, Am B There was a power there between them that was more than any man C D Em You can’t beat it down or gas it, you can’t hold it in your cuffs Am B It’s power of people knowing that they can, Em B7 Em Si se puede, si se puede, yes we can Sixty bucks were short on a check for Jesus Gomez His sweat and body not enough, they even stole his pay And the foreman laughed and said, we can always find another Someone else to take your place, so let’s do it the easy way But he told all his paisanos, his friends from Guanajuato, How much of our dignity can cheated wages buy? We’ll gather up our brothers, and we’ll go down to the Carpenters- Say let us into the union- we’ll organize or die. Chorus The cops at Mission Viejo attacked us on the picket And would hand you to La Migra if you wouldn’t scab But we knew that we would win, one way or the other- And if violence is what they want, then violence they will have we marched on La Migra, and on the police stations And put our bodies on the line, to force their freeways closed Like a dandelion spreads its seeds whenever you will kick it- The harder that they knocked us down, the stronger that we rose Chorus
14.
G G7 You ran as the rank and file C C7 But buddy now it's been a while G D7 Since I've seen you walkin' 'round the floor G G7 You've been climbin' up the ranks C C7 and the old guard pie cards send their thanks G D7 G Since you traded in the tools you wore E7 C I try to talk to you about the grievances we've lost E7 C D7 But every time I try, you're meetin' with the boss G G7 First you went and got elected, C C7 Then you squared up and defected G D7 G For a new truck and a name plate on your door You used to call for wildcats Now you never mention that and you talk about production with a smile How PLAs are the way to raise both profits and our pay and we don't need the members gettin' riled Yeah you traded in your steel toes for a pair of shiny shoes But did you get into office, or did it get into you? You used to be a workin' man, Now I think I know why you ran You were runnin' from the rank and file
15.
A D A E The gentry's assembled, their hands all a-tremble A F#m with bottles delightful and strange A D A the Kings of the Falls, the Queens of Saint Paul A E and the dukes of the iron ore range A D A E and the minstrels and bards from the taconite yards A F#m and the Hills make a whiskey voiced choir A D A while your host Willy Moore sets the house on a roar A E A making craic cracking jokes 'round the fire The girls are dancing, the boys are advancing, and trying their courage to stir and the guests tell the news over free flowing booze 'til their memory's naught but a blur and we fight through the haze and think back on old days and remember dear friends who tonight are scattered like seeds on the currents and breezes or like wild geese put to flight We there in the throng sang our sorrows and songs and like fish parched for water we drank and what then occurred I know not a word for my memory's coming up blank this city's temptations and fiendish libations are apt to make any man crawl but the grandest of feature's a drop of the creature and a night down at Willy Moore's ball
16.
Sartell Mill 04:19
C Em Last night as I lay in the depth of my sleep F G I had an unsettling dream F C Of cinder and fear and a river of tears G Em And the waters where the fired did gleam F C I fell through the smoke and and when I awoke G Em My thoughts with my memories filled F C And I’ll speak and I’ll sing of that terrible spring G Am And the fall of the old Sartell Mill It was late into May, on memorial day The compressors were running too fast And with three machines down the third one spun round Parched for water, she never would last She’s getting too hot, boys, you must turn her off Fix the pipes, let her cool down her hide But with no time to wait they turned her too late And the fire shot red from her side It was in those few moments of fear and alarm And the gas in the pipes ‘gan to screech John Maus took a stand with a sprayer in hand, pouring foam in the fiery breach But bad fortune proclaimed all his efforts in vain, the fire just bolstered and grew But the heat sealed his doom when the sparks took the fumes There was nothing a person could do The blast shook the streets and the flames licked the sky And the paper rained over the town The column of smoke rose higher and higher Was seen by the counties around And the sirens and bells made a funeral knell Where the engine stood over the shore And in cinder and smoke this epitaph wrote There’s no mill in Sartell anymore I can see the new workmen, they’re taking her down As I stand by the riverbank ice They junk her machines and they tear down her walls To be salvaged at scrap metal price Though she stood on the shore for a century or more Now they’re tearing her down by the day And two hundred fifty souls are fresh on the dole And one’s gone and passed on away So may God cast his love on the soul of John Maus From the town of Albany, For he died trying to save the workers beside him And feeding his family For his children and wife he gave up his life And so we remember him still And we’ve laid him to rest with the bravest and best Far from the old Sartell mill.
17.
White Tail 03:48
Dm That old barn lasted longer D than anyone could give it use C D Since the crisis in the 80s hit the town And those old pine planks, like walls of stone Clung rotting on the stubborn bones of timber, ‘til the storm brought them down When the sky is light as painted glass, and lifts the fog off of the grass B7 I’ll be there with a rifle in my hands Em C D And if I can shoot a white tail (x3) Em I can keep us on the land The day the bank called in the loan The old man watched the fields he’d grown Snatched up into the new supply chain’s hands Your seed, your land, your sun, your water fat the birds up for the slaughter Keep the lines rolling at the plant And they brought in workers, keep ‘em packed In the trailer park down by the track And the smack burns through this town like gasoline And if I can shoot a white tail (x3) Then I’ll keep living clean Every year the radio’s More crowded with the outrage show Preaching hatred for a paycheck from the Coast Now a northern boys with stars and bars, And Three Percent slapped on their cars Play dress up as soldiers or as ghosts But there’s people now who I’ve come to know From Africa or Mexico And I know who my friends are in this town And if I can shoot a white tail (x3) We won’t take it lying down Good old boys came into town, Kicked some Somali kid around Hey mama, ain’t you proud of your boy? Now they buzz the trailer park at night High-beams on and armalites, F-150 whips and milspec toys Now that old barn will be my blind They come down here and they will find we know to make a killin’ on the land And I can shoot a white tail (x3) I can shoot down the Klan

about

Rust Belt Ballads, focuses heavily on life, transformation, and struggles for blue collar workers in Middle America. It serves as a meditation both personal and political on the rural farmland and industrial cities he comes from as a worker and artist, and seeks continuity with and a rebirth of working class pride and power in places that have been left behind or written off.

My songs will take you on a journey from the Farm Crisis of the 1980s and its consequences, through mechanization and the changing face of quarrying towns, to a letter to a soldier deployed in Afghanistan, to a satirical take on the billionaire space race. Songs highlight issues like Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, homelessness in the Twin Cities, the repression of anarchists and antifascists in Belarus and Russia, the need for community self defense against white supremacy, and the problem that union bureaucracies pose to rank and file militancy. The 1934 Teamsters Strike, the 1983 P9 Hormel Strike, the 2021 John Deere Strike, and the 1992 Southern California Drywallers strike all are celebrated in ballads. The deadly 2013 Sartell Mill explosion is commemorated, as is the East Palestine OH derailment, in a song written in response to the unfolding news while the recording was underway. There's even a moonshining ballad about the MN 13 whiskey distilled in my hometown during Prohibition.

credits

released September 1, 2023

Vocals, bouzouki, bodhran, guitar, pennywhistle, banjo, mandolin: Emmett Doyle
Fiddle and concertina: Mattie Ernst
Bass and recording: Charie Bruber

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Emmett Doyle Minneapolis, Minnesota

Emmett is a working class rebel musician- a union carpenter, former river deckhand, raised on a farm in central Minnesota. With American country and blues and Irish traditional roots, he keeps the Long Memory going while singing about today's struggles. His work is rooted in social movements he's an active part of, from labor to defending the earth to fighting hate. ... more

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