Get all 31 David Rovics releases available on Bandcamp and save 70%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Bearing Witness, Notes From A Holocaust, Live in Boulder, Killing the Messenger, May Day, It's Been A Year, Rebel Songs, Say Their Names, and 23 more.
Excludes subscriber-only releases.
1. |
Killing the Messenger
03:23
|
|||
|
When someone blew the whistle back in 2006
It was a matter of a password and a couple of clicks
To safely send files and protect the source
While sharing all of the important bits, of course
With a database that’s searchable, all around the Earth
That exposed the rich and powerful, showed us what they’re worth
Showed us the corrupt ways they run affairs
From Iceland to the Indies to almost everywhere
Making clothes transparent on emperors all round
Everywhere that whistle-blowers are to be found
Wikileaks was too effective, it had to be beaten out
Let there be no doubt
Now they want to kill the messenger, while most of us stand by
Just waiting for this prisoner to die
Daniel Ellsberg blew the whistle on war crimes
He called out for someone to step up this time
With Wikileaks’ assistance when Chelsea Manning did
On US torture and mass murder she blew the lid
And the war on Wikileaks went into overdrive
As the authorities tried hard to make sure it couldn’t survive
With charges plucked from history, the Espionage Act
Is being used against Assange under the extradition pact
Not just Republican war criminals, but Democrats, too
Had it out for him now, for telling what he knew
When the DNC rigged the race
Got Clinton the nomination, put Sanders in his place
Now they’ll call him a foreign agent, say he should be shot
They’ll call him a narcissist, whatever defamation they got
They’ll say he’s not a journalist, unlike the ones in Moscow
Reporting on the criminals that we allow
Reporters to report on – we give them the Nobel
While this Australian is caged and sent to hell
|
||||
2. |
When Julian Met Stella
02:10
|
|||
|
When Julian met Stella, in the embassy
In the only room for seven years that he would ever see
Guarded by police, with cops on every street
An unusual situation for the first time you should meet
When Julian met Stella, the time they spent
Was increasingly within the walls of a little tent
Where they could have some privacy from the ever-present gaze
Under which he was spending all his nights and days
When Julian met Stella, there was the chance of grace
Perhaps the president would decide to drop the case
They had two children beneath the watchful eyes
Of the Americans and British and all kinds of other spies
When Julian met Stella, on Embassy Row
It was before he was abducted and forced to go
To Belmarsh Prison, without a chance to speak
Awaiting the extradition that the USA seeks
When Julian met Stella, the folks at the UN
And people all around the world spoke out then
This journalist belongs among the free
Not in prison for exposing crimes against humanity
When Julian met Stella
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Behind these prison walls there’s a man who’s won awards
For the work that he has done and all that it affords
Such as the knowledge of the horrors committed in our name
They can’t stop the message, so the messenger gets blamed
Behind these prison walls, in solitary confinement
In a land of rolling hills and royalty and other such refinement
Is someone who is a hero to whistleblowers everywhere
Who helped them tell the world of the crimes of Tony Blair
Behind these prison walls you will find a mortal man
The reason why we know what happened in Afghanistan
When the soldiers of the empire whose sun set long before
Were torturing civilians in their terror war
Behind these prison walls is a part of Wikileaks
An eloquent orator, but you won’t hear him speakh
Locked away in silence, one who knows too well
How those in power act when there’s another war to sell
Behind these prison walls is one who stands accused
Of exactly what offenses, the US has refused
To say precisely which, or to try to clear the mist
Or to explain how he’s not the same as other journalists
Behind these prison walls is a person they’d deprive
Of most of the things in life that keep us all alive
A person being tortured, as we stand here now
For revealing the war crimes – why, when, where, how
Behind these prison walls, our very right to be informed
Of what the hell is going on is the teacup in this storm
With knowledge there is power, so the solution by the Crown
A 24-hour-a-day, indefinite lockdown
Behind these prison walls
|
||||
4. |
Across the Ocean Wide
03:16
|
|||
|
Across the ocean wide, where many ships have been
Where many long remember those passengers within
All of those whose families were buried or in jail
In the killing fields of Spain, when the Winnipeg set sail
Across the ocean wide, across the open seas
A world better than the camps the French authorities
Threw the people in, and if they lived to tell the tale
They’d be the lucky few, when the Winnipeg set sail
Across the ocean wide, the ship was met at bay
By the throngs of people who just had to come that day
In 1939, to cheer and cry and say all hail
Solidarity – when the Winnipeg set sail
Across the ocean wide was where they had to flee
The thousands upon thousands of Spanish refugees
From the lands of Europe, where humanity had failed
To the shores of Valparaiso, when the Winnipeg set sail
Across the ocean wide was where they would remain
As dictatorship would rule for half a century in Spain
Torpedoed in ’42, now it lies upon the shale
One voyage will outlive her – when the Winnipeg set sail
Across the ocean wide
|
||||
5. |
Winnipeg
04:10
|
|||
|
The war came, men were drafted, many never made it back
Those who did discovered in their absence they’d got the sack
Tenements in squalor, both rats and people getting sick
What they had in common, life was short, death was quick
No one had a plan, what they were going to do
When all the men came back home and the ranks of the unemployed grew
The way the people had to live was no life at all
But it still came as a surprise, how many answered the call
If you weren’t there you’ll never know just what it was like
When the whole city went on strike
City leaders and newspapers, in many ways they tried
To do everything they could to widen the divide
Between good Canadians and those they called “alien scum”
Between those who missed conscription and those who beat the war drum
But when the veterans marched in Winnipeg they marched for everyone
Under the banner of the working class, the One Big Union
Everybody left their jobs, whether organized or not
Even the policemen walked away, refused to embrace the rot
Chorus
The mayor deputized the scabs, soon they shot two men
Who died in the city center on the hour when
The scabs rampaged through the city, attacking anyone in the street
Trapping people in alleyways, not even allowing them to retreat
Soldiers occupied the city, people hadn’t eaten in weeks
The prospects for victory began to look bleak
People went back to their jobs, if indeed they even could
The bosses said they’d seek revenge and many of them would
Chorus
Strike leaders were imprisoned, from where several were elected
To the Canadian parliament, and a monument was erected
At Main and Portage, where a street car was overturned
Driven in by strikebreakers on the spot where it was burned
It was a century ago but life is often still defined
By which side you were on on that picket line
Was your grandpa shot in the heart or did they break his leg
When the working class rose up and shut down Winnipeg
Chorus
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
Missile strikes in Baghdad, skies full of fighter jets
The tension in the air, as thick as it gets
Their talking points are loaded, at each press conference
With what passes for an effort at historical reference
They talk of things that happened over forty years before
That they say now bring us to the edge of world war
They talk about the hostages, so let us now rewind
When the students took the embassy, just what did they find?
When the students took the embassy, I was just a kid
But I remember well, the first things they did
Let all the women go, while collecting all the trash
All the shredded documents that weren’t yet turned to ash
All the shredded documents that clearly showed
The torture and corruption, how the power flowed
The concept of a captured state was one the Shah defined
When the students took the embassy, just what did they find?
When the students took the embassy, they found the crimes of Savak
Had the CIA hiding under every rock
And that’s where they had been, where the agents were based
They had a staff of thousands there, from there they laid to waste
The dreams held by so many for a free society
Like the one they overthrew, back in 1953
Historic crimes exposed, in the shredder once consigned
When the students took the embassy, just what did they find?
|
||||
7. |
Mawda Was Her Name
03:34
|
|||
|
Their country was invaded and destroyed
Then they had a baby boy
They sold everything they owned
So they might escape the war zone
They took the Baltic Route, north and west
It was the one the smugglers said was best
They got as far as Germany
Which is where they had another baby
It’s a deadly thing, what some call immigration
England was their final destination
In a crowded van, driving to the port
On past Flanders’ fields, yet another life cut short
Cops on every side, the vehicle surrounded
When the loud crack sounded
Mama held her daughter, tight in place
Then she saw the bullet hit her face
And Mawda was her name
There are many ways to stop a van
Many ways to do it – they can
Make a roadblock, for one
If you’re under fire, you can use your gun
But all the bullets flew in one direction
At first they denied it, but at closer inspection
The cop was aiming for the driver’s head
But he missed and hit the girl instead
And Mawda was her name
And if the driver had been hit, how many more
Numbers would be added to the score
Of those who only wanted to raise a family
But then died on the shores of Turkey
Or somewhere in the desert, or tortured in a prison
Or on the bottom of the ocean
At a Baghdad checkpoint, or at a traffic stop
Or shot down by a Belgian cop
And Mawda was her name
|
||||
8. |
As I Walk On By
03:52
|
|||
|
Every time I leave the apartment, things change a little more
The rug pulled out so many times, who knows where’s the floor
Folks look more ragged by the day, I can give ’em a few bucks
Wonder what the future holds, wish them luck
As I walk on by
See the people on their porches, chairs out on a deck
Sometimes you can tell which ones received their checks
And which ones are still waiting after all these many weeks
Wondering if this is what it smells like in Shit’s Creek
When my children ask me, I’m not quite sure what to say
Why the playground’s always empty where the kids all used to play
Why the people cross the street now whenever we come near
Where did all the people go, who used to be here
I go out with my headphones on, like everybody else does
Listening for news, suddenly relevant, because
We all want to know how the virus might transform
All of us still here, weathering this storm
|
||||
9. |
Elijah Played the Violin
03:10
|
|||
|
His family moved from Denver to Aurora
Mama thought they’d be safer out there
Away from all the hubbub of the city
Closer to the mountains and fresh air
Some kids are into fancy cars and football
Or getting lots of tattoos on their shin
But Elijah played the violin
Some kids are into hamburgers and hot dogs
Other kids just do things their own way
Elijah was a vegetarian
And on his lunch breaks he would go and play
Music for the animals at the shelter
The staff would welcome their young comrade with a grin
Elijah played the violin
As a young man Elijah moved in with his cousin
He became a massage therapist
He had a kind and open hand
While others only knew the fist
Such as the men in blue who were called one night
To assault their unknown kin
Elijah played the violin
They slammed him into the wall, they threw him to the ground
Although he made no effort to fight back
They choked him til he vomited, and then they did it more
No body cams recorded the attack
Elijah said he couldn’t breathe, he was begging for his life
So they shot him full of ketamine
Elijah played the violin
He went into cardiac arrest – soon after, he was dead
And he had not committed one offense
Aside from being Black in these dis-United States
And trying to exist in the preset tense
Nothing happened to the cops, they were just following procedures
Killing people for the color of their skin
Elijah played the violin
|
||||
10. |
Just A Renter
03:20
|
|||
|
Ten thousand yuppies just moved here
Ten thousand others came last year
The rent has doubled since I moved in
Each month I take it on the chin
Each month I wonder how many more
Can I stay in Portland before
Before I move into my car
Or end up somewhere behind bars
Ten thousand yuppies say don’t complain
Now that the city is in the fast lane
It’s just the market and it knows best
That’s how the bankers built the west
So just get rich and you can stay
Otherwise just go away
There’s no room here for us
Holding on under the bus
I’m just a renter, this ain’t my town
Might as well just burn it down
For all I care
Ten thousand yuppies think it’s great
To invest in Portland real estate
“Keep Portland weird” they like to say
But that was over yesterday
Of their achievements they’re so proud
Living lives in some cloud
But unlimited data will get you nowhere
If you can’t afford to care
Chorus
Ten thousand yuppies and on each block
They’re flipping houses and taking stock
Where’s the next place they can transform
Tents and mansions, the new norm
They like Ted Talks, they like greed
They like wine bars, they like weed
They like bike lanes, they want more
They’re the face of the new class war
Chorus
|
||||
11. |
||||
|
Like an old cloth, torn and fraying
It came like a clarion call
To illustrate the saying
United we stand, divided we will fall
A thin veneer torn by disease
Shredded, the great con laid bare
Come from across the seas
Now floating in the air
Like a corpse that’s lying exposed
That all of us now can see
All that the cadaver shows
About a society
The veil of fantasy lifted
That gives us at least some idea how
Another world is possible
And I can hear her breathing now
Like the red blood that flows from the bullet
Whether coated in rubber or not
Like the faces you see in the helmet
Reflecting the thickening plot
Driven by such a villain
As a thing exponential allows
It says another world is possible
And I can hear her breathing now
Like the pallor on so many faces
On every end of the town
On the murals in so many places
Boarded up and long ago shut down
Making all the connections
Between the mule and the plow
That another world is possible
And I can hear her breathing now
Like the smoke rising up coast to coast
With formations that brighten the skies
Like Lord Thomas Jefferson’s ghost
His victims no longer disguised
As his visage falls into the river
Like the skull of an old sacred cow
That says another world is possible
And I can hear her breathing now
|
||||
12. |
||||
|
Wake up another morning, see my baby’s cheeks
Glad to be around to have another week
To watch the magic happen, find all there is to learn
As the planet floods and burns
Wake up another morning, grind some coffee beans
Turn on Al-Jazeera, marvel at the scenes
Towns reduced to ashes, while the twisters turn
As the planet floods and burns
Wake up another morning, picking on these strings
One more day to be here, find out what life brings
The horizon’s red and hazy, that much I can discern
As the planet floods and burns
Wake up another morning, watch the neighbors drive away
Heading to a warehouse to work another day
Leaving me to wonder how fast this wind can churn
As the planet floods and burns
Wake up another morning, see the Twitter trolls
Complain about the fascists who are living on the dole
Demanding safe space in the boxcar and other such concerns
As the planet floods and burns
Wake up another morning, see the orange hue
Know what needs to happen, don’t know what to do
Show me to the ark, where’s the bow and stern
As the planet floods and burns
Wake up another morning, in the now again
If I want to see the future, I can count to ten
History, you’ll find it in the tombstones and the urns
As the planet floods and burns
|
||||
13. |
||||
|
At the end of World War 3, amid the lightning and thunder
Those left alive, as long as they live, will wonder
Was there something that could have been done
Before nuclear winter blocked out the sun
After the Earth that we once knew was blown asunder
At the end of World War 3, any pundits who may still be found
Will have heated debates about how the end came around
Was it the Black Sea blockade
When the rush for the end times was made
Or the breaking of promises promised when the wall came down
At the end of World War 3, as people look for clean water to drink
As they’re dreaming of the days when they had a kitchen sink
Wishing they could try again
To talk to belligerent men
Back when we were hanging on the brink
At the end of World War 3, when everyone has the same thought
Is this what imperial intransigence wrought
Life under occupation
Or the end of creation
Decisions that decades of lost opportunities brought
At the end of World War 3, with billions dead or dying
It won’t matter who was right, or who was lying
When civilization has ended
Once the last warhead descended
Only then will there be no one left denying
At the end of World War 3, as the few left alive
Survey the rubble remaining, wondering how long they’ll survive
Too late to question the story
Of expansion or conquest or glory
No time to rewind from the date Armageddon arrived
At the end of World War 3
|
||||
14. |
||||
|
One day you’re working, the next you’re not
And what you have is what you got
You lost the job you thought you’d keep
You wake up at night, you can’t sleep
You got time now – time to dream
Time to break down, cry and scream
And the Earth spins round again
Sometimes your goals of any size
Just vanish in front of your eyes
And all that’s left is what you see
Like the squirrel outside your window in that tree
And on the man there on the screen
Who wants us to try injecting Listerine
The dice are up, no telling where
They’ll land when they come down from the air
Everything can change and fall apart
It can affect your lungs and your heart
Assumptions thrown, they’re in the breeze
Who knows what they’ll be, when we’re done with this disease
One day you’re OK, things are alright
then all of a sudden, overnight
Foreclosed, evicted, living in cars
Empty hotels and wine bars
Wake up to learn our collective fate
Depends on how we cooperate
|
||||
15. |
Behind the Barricades
01:38
|
|||
|
When the world has gone crazy
And it’s all becoming clear
When they’re gunning down our comrades
And it seems the end is near
As they’re loading up the launchers
For the tear gas grenades
We can take off our bandanas
And kiss behind the barricades
When it’s madness all around
You can see this at a glance
We will cry and we will sing
And we will laugh and we will dance
As they shout their marching orders
Beneath the helicopter blades
We will seize the moment
For a kiss behind the barricades
They will try to break our spirit
And at times they may succeed
But our love for the world
Is stronger than their greed
When the building is surrounded
And hope begins to fade
In my final hour
A kiss behind the barricades
As the movement grows
There will be hills and bends
But at the center of the struggle
Are your lovers and your friends
The more we hold each other up
The less we can be swayed
Here’s to love and solidarity
And a kiss behind the barricades
|
||||
David Rovics Portland, Oregon
Singer/songwriter, writer, podcaster (on Spotify, Substack & Patreon), anarchist, dad, lover of life.
David Rovics recommends:
A Hand Full Of Songs
by Jim Page
Seattle's Jim Page is one of the very best songwriters in the English language (and just as oriented towards what we might call the world around him as I am).
go to album
Ryan Harvey of Baltimore is another of my favorite songwriters, writers and organizers on the planet.
go to album
Heart First Aid Kit
by Grace Petrie & the PC Brigade
Moving across the pond, here's one more of my favorite rabble-rousing songwriters -- Grace Petrie.
go to albumIf you like David Rovics, you may also like:
supported by 6 fans who also own “Killing the Messenger”
All of this album is just great. But Storm to Weather is just an amazing sing along track that is always a joy to hear live.
go to album
Outside Child
by Allison Russell
supported by 5 fans who also own “Killing the Messenger”
this just describes how much i love being in Montreal. Allison got it.
go to album
Anthemic and hook-laden folk-rock from Grace Petries is full of both good humor and wryly poetic observations on life and love.
go to album
