Sounds and Fury

「聲音與憤怒」一書沒有能從Joe Hill開始寫起，無疑是很大的缺憾。Joe Hill是二十世紀初的工運組織者，也是一個抗議歌手，他的實踐方式與影響力可以說是一切討論音樂與政治的起點。Joe Hill一生所展現的是，音樂要能改變世界，除了歌曲的煽動性與凝聚力外，還是必須依靠不斷的、紮實的組織工作。所以在他坐牢期間，他寫信給同志說：Don't waste time mourning. Organize!

所以在印刻雜誌的新專欄中「革命伴奏曲」中，第一篇就寫Joe Hill。
關於Joe Hill的中文介紹很稀少，網路上可以找到的，是陳信行這篇相當好也廣為引用的關於美國抗議民謠的文章。

另外，在這裡可以提供一些雜誌文中沒有列出的相關網路資源。

這裡有各很棒的網站，還可以聽到相關歌曲。

更棒的是，網路上有Joan Baez去年在反戰場合重新演唱的I Dream I Saw Joe Hill Last Night的畫面。(寫作的時候，這首歌不斷地纏繞著我，實在是太美的歌。)

我的這篇文章因為雜誌剛出，不方便全文照登，所以先把文章開頭寫出來。（底下紅字）文章做了一個不知道是否成功的嘗試，我在文章開頭把那首著名的歌曲I Dream I Saw Joe Hill Last Night的歌詞改寫為一個有點魔幻寫實的情境，然後在談到Joan Baez演唱這首歌的經典場景時，把歌詞帶出來。接下來，就是關於他傳奇而短暫的一生.... 

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 昨夜我夢見了Joe Hill，那個二十世紀初慘死的工運歌手。眼前的他雖然渾身是血，但卻顯得精神飽滿、眼中充滿鬥志，彷彿正要前往一場激烈的抗爭。
 我驚訝地說：「Joe，你不是已經死了幾十年了嗎？」
 長期待在礦場和其他工廠而顯得粗礪黝黑的他，緩緩地說出，「不，我從來沒有死」。
 「可是，可是那些貪婪的銅礦財主們不是槍殺了你嗎？」我說。
 「槍是殺不了一個人的。我從來沒被他們打死」他說。
 「你知道」，Joe Hill微笑著說，「凡是沒被他們擊倒的人，都會繼續堅持下去，繼續去組織更多工人。而我，不會這樣就死去的。」

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 的確，在整個二十世紀的反叛與抗爭中，Joe Hill從來沒有離開。
 1969年，在Woodstock這個以三天三夜濃縮了六零年代一切斑斕炫目的反文化的演唱會上，Joe Hill的身影突然出現在台上。在稀微的燈火下，面對著台下三十萬人，瓊拜雅(Joan Baez)，那個世代最美麗而堅定的聲音，靜靜地演唱了一首關於永恆的堅持，關於如何組織工人的老歌，那是寫於1925年 的 “I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night”。在這個Woodstock最令人難忘的夜晚，Joe Hill的歷史幽魂，一個抗議歌手的永恆形像，以及美國工運的激進主義傳統，摻進了屬於愛與和平的滿地泥漿中。

值得一提的是，承接Joe Hill抗議歌手棒子的Woody Guthrie和Phil Ochs，都歌曲寫下Joe的一生，非常精彩。這是Phil Ochs的歌：

Joe Hill come over from Sweden shores,
Looking for some work to do,
And the Statue of Liberty waved him by
As Joe come a sailing through, Joe Hill,
As Joe come a sailing through.

Oh his clothes were coarse and his hopes were high
As he headed for the promised land.
And it took a few weeks on the out-of-work streets
Before he began to understand,
Before he began to understand.

And Joe got hired by a Bowery bar,
Sweeping up the saloon.
As his rag would sail over the bar-room rail,
Sounded like he whistled on a tune,
You could almost hear him whistling on a tune.

And Joe rolled on from job to job,
From the docks to the railroad line.
And no matter how hungry the hand that wrote --
In his letters he was always doing fine,
In his letters he was always doing fine.

Oh, the years went by like the sun goin' down,
slowly turn the page.
And when Joe looked back at the sweat upon his tracks,
He had nothing to show but his age,
He had nothing to show but his age.

So he headed out for the California shore;
There things were just as bad.
So he joined the Industrial Workers of the World
'Cause the union was the only friend he had,
'Cause, The union was the only friend he had.

Now the strikes were bloody and the strikes were black,
as hard as they were long.
In the dark of night, Joe would stay awake and write;
In the morning he would raise them with a song,
In the morning he would raise them with a song.

And he wrote his words to the tunes of the day
To be passed along the union vine.
And the strikes were led and the songs were spread,
And Joe Hill was always on the line,
Yes, Joe Hill was always on the line.

Now in Salt Lake City, a murder was made;
There was hardly a clue to find.
Oh, the proof was poor, but the sheriff was sure
Joe was the killer of the crime,
That Joe was the killer of the crime.

Joe raised his hands but they shot him down,
he had nothing but guilt to give.
"It's a doctor I need," and they left him to bleed;
He made it 'cause he had the will to live,
Yes, he made it 'cause he had the will to live.

Then the trial was held in a building of wood,
And there the killer would be named.
And the days weighed more than the cold copper ore
'Cause he feared that he was being framed,
Cause he found out that he was being framed.

Oh, strange are the ways of western law,
Strange are the ways of fate.
For the government crawled to the mine owner's call
That the judge was appointed by the state,
Yes, The judge was appointed by the state.

Oh, Utah justice can be had,
But not for a union man.
And Joe was warned by summer early morn
That there'd be one less singer in the land,
There'd be one less singer in the land.

Now William Spry was Governor Spry,
And a life was his to hold.
On the last appeal fell a governor's tear;
May the lord have mercy on your soul,
May the lord have mercy on your soul.

Even President Wilson held up the day,
But even he would fail.
For nobody heard the soul-searching words
Of the soul in the Salt Lake City jail,
Of the soul in the Salt Lake City jail.

For thirty-six years he lived out his days,
And he more than played his part.
For his songs that he made, he was carefully paid
With a rifle bullet buried in his heart,
With a rifle bullet buried in his heart.

Yes, they lined Joe Hill up against the wall,
Blindfold over his eyes.
It's the life of a rebel that he chose to live,
It's the death of a rebel that he died,
It's the death of a rebel that he died.

Now some say Joe was guilty as charged,
And some say he wasn't even there.
And I guess nobody will ever know
'Cause the court records all disappeared,
'Cause the court records all disappeared.

Say wherever you go in this fair land,
In every union hall,
In the dusty dark these words are marked
In between all the cracks upon the wall,
In between all the cracks upon the wall.

It's the very last line that Joe Hill wrote
When he knew that his days were through:
"Boys, this is my last and final will --
Good luck to all of you,
Good luck to all of you."