morning since this wicked war began, I have spun the same 45 record
on our dusty old turntable: Freda Payne’s "Bring the Boys Home,"
an isolationist anthem if ever there was one. Freda, best known
for her bouncy drama of wedding-night impotence, "Band of Gold,"
the Boys Home" in 1971 on the Invictus label. It never
rose higher than #12 on the charts. But it’s a heartbreaker, one
of the best antiwar pop songs because, like Jimmy Webb’s "Galveston"
or Eric Bogle’s "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda,"
it measures the cost of war on a human scale. An affecting mixture
of Motown and dirge, the song begins with Freda’s lament:
Lovers are all alone
Mothers are praying
Send our sons back home
You marched them away
on ships and planes
to a senseless war
Facing death in vain
and her backup singers beseech, implore, demand:
Bring ‘em back alive!
imagines "all the soldiers that are dying…just trying to
get home," and she ends with a beautifully furious question:
doin’ over there?
When we need ‘em over here?
years later, as brave American boys once again die for nothing halfway
around the globe, our rulers still haven’t answered that question.
But until the Department of Homeland Security confiscates seditious
pop records, Freda Payne will keep asking. Bring the boys home…NOW!
Kauffman’s [send him mail]
from the Muckdog Gazette: A Mostly Affectionate Account of a Small
Town’s Fight to Survive has just been published by Henry