The New Yorker Radio Hour - Joan Baez Is Still Protesting

Episode Date: October 16, 2018

“You know, I think as I get older,” Joan Baez tells David Remnick, “someone will show me a photograph”—of the March on Washington, for example—“and I’ll think, ‘Oh my god, I was there. And those people were there, and Dr. King said what he said.’ Sometimes, going into a historic moment, you know it, and other times you don’t know it. In that case I think by midway through the morning, we all knew.” Baez became the defining voice of folk music as it intersected with the leftist politics of the sixties and beyond. She performed at the March on Washington and at Woodstock; she went on a peace mission to Hanoi where she was caught in an American bombing raid; she adopted cause after cause. Her work has changed with her age. She can’t hit the high notes of her youth, and she stopped writing songs decades ago—or as she describes it, the songs simply stopped coming to her. Yet she has never stopped performing protest music. At WNYC’s studios, she played two songs from her new record, “Whistle Down the Wind”: one is a prayer for healing after the mass killing in Charleston, written by Zoe Mulford; the other a dirge on climate change by Anohni.   New Yorker Radio Hour listeners, we want to hear from you.  We have a few questions about the show and how you listen to it. The survey takes about twenty minutes, and your feedback will help us make our podcast better.  Take the survey here.

From One World Trade Center in Manhattan, this is the New Yorker Radio Hour, a co-production of the New Yorker and WNYC Studios. Don't sing love songs, you'll wake my mother. She's sleeping here right by my side. That voice, that ringing, remarkable voice, belongs to Joan Baez, circa 1960, singing the first song on her first album. Baez was just 19 at the time and she would soon become one of the defining voices of folk music as it gained a much wider audience in the 1960s.

She performed with Pete Seeger, she sang We Shall Overcome at the March on Washington, she played Woodstock, and in 1972, she joined a peace delegation to North Vietnam where she was caught in the bombing of Hanoi. Baez is 77 years old now, and earlier this year she released a new album

called Whistle Down the Wind, and she said it might be her last album, but you never know. She joined me at the studio at WNYC. Tell me a little bit about Whistle Down the Wind, how this album came to be, what you wanted to be. It seems to mirror in some way your very first record

in some ways in a very conscious way. It does. I mean, the very first thought about it was of some kind of bookend, because I had already started thinking about, you know, pretty much winding down. It's like the, first album. It's

simple. There's certainly a hint of social consciousness in it. They're pretty songs. A couple of them were written for me. I think the depth of it comes from the two songs, which actually I'll sing today. One of them is another world

and the other is the president sang Amazing Grace. Because those are the powerhouses of songs. And without those, it would have been a really beautiful album, but wouldn't have the depth that it has. How do you feel about songwriting as opposed to doing covers lately? Is it more interesting to you to do covers?

Well, first of all, you have to know that I quit songwriting about over 25 years ago. And I didn't quit it. It quit. It quit. Yeah, the channeling or whatever was going on just stopped. And I mean, I didn't really want to go to Round Robbins and learn how to write songs. You know, I just at that point started doing everybody else's music. and that's what I've done since then.

Was that devastating in a way that you felt that songs were not coming for wherever they come from? No, I didn't realize it until I'd written to some couple that were so bad. That's right. That's it.

Yeah. I mean, when I wrote poetry for a lot of years, that stopped as well. So now I paint, and I think that's going to stick. You do? Mm-hmm.

Is that what you're doing with most of your days as painting? When I'm home, yeah. Mm-hmm. Now, you seem to be doing a lot of listening, too, and a lot of listening went into this record. meaning with contemporary artists who are a good deal younger than you,

a little younger than me as well. And this first song that you're going to perform is another world, and it's by a performer named Anoni. Tell me a little bit about her. Well, I don't know her personally retext now a little bit. She seems very spiritual, and her life is deeply meaningful to her, and this song is deeply meaningful to me.

Somebody wrote down all of my thoughts. And a simple song. That's what it feels like. Exactly. Why don't we? Yeah, sure. Okay. Don't do that to that thing.

Oh my God, it's so beautiful. Okay, this is another world. I need another place. Will there be peace? I need another world. This one's nearly gone. Still have too many dreams. Never seen the light

I need another world Nearly gone Another word Another word Another word I'm gonna miss the sea Gonna miss the snow I'm gonna miss the bees

I'll miss the things that grow I'm gonna miss the trees Gonna miss the sun I'll miss the animals animals and I'll miss you everyone another word another word I need another place will there peace I need another world this one's nearly gone I'm gonna miss the birds singing all their song I'm gonna miss the wind It's been kissing me so long.

Another word. Another word. Another word. Another word. It's a beauty. A beauty. Isn't it? Do you ever, you say you were texting with Anoni about this song. How much do you tease out what the song is about? Oh, I didn't really try.

I didn't do that. I didn't need to. I mean, for me, it's mostly about climate change, you know. But you've been through. a certain number of political moments and 60s and many moments in between and how does this seem

similar or different? It's just I couldn't have dreamed this up all the stuff I've been through and all the countries and all the dictatorships and you know and through all that if somebody had said can you write a story about how bad can it get

I couldn't have written it nor could anybody I know that it's just what we are facing in the administration is evil and it's cruel there's no empathy zero empathy

so it leaves you or leaves me thinking how am I going to conduct my life it's the year of the bully and to bully people now seems to be okay to lying

no problem no perjury not a problem and so that is the new normal and how does it change the texture of your life day to day waking up in the morning as you

proceed through the day? Well I think I mean I've heard other people say this too it oftentimes just hits in the night in the form of this terrible anxiety and you realize that it's real I mean it's not some neurotic anxiety I'm anxious about the state of the world which you know it is terrible

and so one thing is to one of my things I suggest, spend a lot of time in denial. That's great advice. Yeah. And don't expect much. I mean, keep the bar really low. Yeah. Keep laughing.

You know, I was just watching a documentary. I forget which one it was because this scene appears in so many documentaries of you singing at the March on Washington. And I just wonder how you visualize in your mind, moments like that in your life, which are now distant, and they're iconic in the minds of other people. But you're there. You're holding the guitar. You're at the microphone and it's kind of lousy sound system and singing through what was a half a million people, whatever it was. Do you think about these moments in your past? You know, I think as I get older, sometimes I do, or somebody who'll show me a photograph, I think, oh my God, I was there.

And those people were there, and Dr. King said what he said. And sometimes going into a, quote, historic moment, you know. it and other times you don't know it. In that case, I think by midway through the morning, we all knew it, yeah. Yeah. You mean there's sometimes that you're in the middle of an event that turns out to be iconic and you have no idea? I think that... A festival or political moment.

Yeah. I was just thinking about Woodstock, and it was a little bit of both because I took the last helicopter in and looking down and seeing these people like, ants, you know, there's just gobs of people. people. And so I had a hint then of that this was going to be something very big, but it was after the fact that you realize, oh my goodness, that's made a dent in people's lives forever. And in yours? And in mine, yeah. You know, this next song that you're going to do, I went to Charleston, not just days after the shooting to write about these families and these relatives of people who had lost people

in the church there, in this slaughter. And it was extraordinary. And then the funeral that followed that President Obama went to, it seems like a million years ago. It does. The idea of a president capable of showing empathy to such a degree

that not only is the crowd with him and they feel like allies, but he's able to sing the song and begin the song that lifts people up as opposed to issue a tweet that depresses the hell out of them. How do you remember that terrible incident and why did you decide to cover this song? Well, covering this song was a no-brainer. I mean, it was whatever feelings I had then or in the future, this song just dropped out of the sky. It's written by Zoe Mulford. I did not

know. And most people didn't know. I need to tune the guitar. I mean, if I was quicker at tuning, you're killing me, knocking that guitar, you're killing me. You're killing me. You're not knocking it, you're hearing it too loudly. Should you just go ahead? Yeah.

Okay. The young man came to a house of prayer. They did not ask what brought him there. He was not friend, he was not keen. But they opened the door. And they let him in. And for an hour the stranger stayed. He sat with them and he seemed to pray.

But then that young man drew a gun and killed nine people old and young. In Charleston in the month of June, the mourners gathered in a room. The president came to say, speak some words and the cameras rolled and the nation heard

say what must be said for all the living and the dead so on that day and in that place the president sang amazing grace the president

sang amazing we argued where to lay the blame On one man's hate or our nation's shame Some sickness of the mind and soul And how our wounds might be made home Say what must be said for all the living and the dead So on that day and in that place The president sang Amazing Grace

my president sang Amazing Great The last line is my president There's a switch From the president to my president Is this the only president That you felt of is in that way about

Yeah And I had to decide whether I was going to use that or not Because Zoe wrote it My president I thought Eh Eh Eh

All of them they have to lie cheat and steal And do all this stuff But yeah, he was a statesman, he was smart, he was caring, in spite of whatever the warts were, you know, and there were some, Afghanistan, you know, border crossings. A lot of it. He was just somebody I liked, I like. Did you meet him?

Yeah, I met him. I was in the middle of a snowstorm, and it was just inauguration. And I went and I met him when I had, it was freezing out. and my feet had shrunk, and I couldn't keep my high heels on. They stuffed things in there for me, you know, like cotton wands. But you wore high heels of the inauguration? It was very cold that day. I kicked them off and went barefoot.

It was a good solution. It was a good solution. That's a great solution. Well, your feet shrink and you're going to be schlepping and making noises all the way to the president. So I went barefoot and made him very happy. You totally embraced the idea of political song writing and its connection to politics, its connection to the social world.

Bob Dylan did the other thing. He ran away from it. He wrote some of the great political songs of the time and then did his very best to either reject the label or pretend to. It's hard to make sense of it now. I take him in his word. What did you make of that? The kind of wanting to be distant from Masters of War and saying, you know, it would be

great for the kids or sell. He would sell, whatever. You know, I reached a point very recently when I was painting him for commissions. And I played his music 24 hours a day for a while, and any kind of criticism, resentment, old bullshit just absolutely. It melted away. Melted gone. You know, and all I think now is what a lucky human being I am that I was there at that point in history. Look, I'm steeped in this stuff.

I read your book, especially in the first appearance when you tour together and then he very painfully pushes you away. His behavior was awful. Yeah, awful. Pretty awful. Yeah. And your tone in that book, which is written in the kind of mid to late 80s, is still. Really bitter. I mean, I held on to that for a long time.

And then, you know, recently he said some nice things about me. That's nice. but that isn't what triggered. Just saying, okay, just drop all this. It was too beautiful what we got from him. It doesn't matter. He wrote us our arsenal, and then we went on and did the work.

What do you do about old songs that are particularly hard to sing? Do you just junk them or find new ways to finesse them? Well, my brilliant sound man said, because I was grumbling, I couldn't do forever young anymore, because I love it. Because of the top. Because of the top. He said, well, let Grace do that.

You know, the woman who tune my guitar is a woman who sings with me. She has a fantastic voice, and she can hit all the notes that I used to be able to hit. She's out on stage with you, not posting you underneath the stage. She's out on stage with me. Yeah. We took her out of the box and put her on the stage. I think that's excellent. And it's beautiful.

I mean, we've turned it into an encore because it's so special. She takes that note that I'll, you know, never, ever be able to make again. Are there moments when something breaks through, or, Or is it just a physiological thing? You can't go above X note and don't even try. There's a thing called cellular memory, and there are some songs that I can do now, this mostly from cell memory.

For example. Swing low. I still do swing low. And it's a different sound when I go up and hit that note, but it's still something I can get to and sustain. A lot of those notes I can get to, but I can't sustain them. It's like I'm popping back down.

It sounds it off. a lot like being an athlete. It is. You know, it's the muscle. And then after a while, you're not going to be able to do that anymore. Are you just as happy not doing this? Mm-hmm.

I am not. You mean the work and the vocal stuff? Yeah. You know, it's probably now about seven years ago. And I was hoping, because I was having such a hard time with the voice, I thought, well, I'll go and see some ear, nose and throat guy. Maybe he'll say, I've got nodes all over my vocal cord,

and he'll take them off and I'll be perfect, yeah. And he poked around and we put the thing down my throat and we watched it on the screen and I said, well, is this kind of it? He said, you're exactly where you should be at 71. And I said, oh, you know, that's a shame. And I think that if I'd started training, I mean, like Judy Collins, she still holds those notes up there.

How does she do that? I think she trained really early and trained classically. I joke with her that she could make notes that I never dream of making again. Right. Whereas I think Joni Mitchell, the voice started changing really early. Yeah, I think so too.

So you've got two nights, you've got two big concerts Friday and Saturday night this week, I think it's fair to say. And how do you prepare for something like this? Well, I'm already prepared from this tour. There's nothing I fret about. You don't get nervous? Not really.

So you don't have dreams like you wake up in the middle of night in a terror sweat. forgotten the lyrics to diamonds and rusters on me. You know, I have several times that it just makes everybody laugh, so don't worry about it. So it's good showmanship. Yeah, right. Perfect. Well, I wish you all the best for this tour.

It's a great, great, great honor. It's been a pleasure for me. Thanks very much. Thank you. Oh, fair thee well, I must be gone and leave you for a while. Wherever I go,

I will return. Joan Baez is on her Fair The Well tour well into the spring of 2019, so you still have plenty of chances to see her. I'm David Remnick. Thanks for joining us on The New Yorker Radio Hour this week, and until next time, stay in touch with us on Twitter at New Yorker Radio. The New Yorker Radio Hour is a co-production of WNYC Studios and The New Yorker. Our theme music was composed and performed by Merrill Garbus of Tune Yards

with additional music by Alexis Quadrato. The New Yorker Radio Hour is a co-prudder. supported in part by the Cherina Endowment Fund.