From Phil Ochs to Phil Hoax

Perhaps the most insurmountable problem preventing any musical appreciation of the folk song idiom is the irrefutable fact that the mealy lyrics of these so-called "airs" are mostly concerned with the dreary seafaring activities of inconsequential ne'er-do-wells. The absurdly portentous appearance of dubious Elfin folk can also be guaranteed to spoil what otherwise might have been a pretty melody. And, all to frequently, the nasally-challenged, hempen-clad warbler of such "ditties" will prove himself to be an incorrigible liar before the first verse has been sung, usually by the transparently cretinous ruse of deceitfully backdating his wearisome hard-luck story by three hundred years or more.
I recently caught one particularly mangy specimen accompanying himself on matchstick guitar while croaking out the words to "This land is your land, this land is my land," which was actually rather duplicitous and inconsistent of him, because his previous song had been all about how the land apparently belongs to the Native American people instead. Come on, folk singer, make your mind up!

Comments

[Edward Williams]

The only time a folk singer ever made his mind up was when Bob Dylan decided to become a rocker.

[Uncle Pavian]

Well, yah. But remember, they're in it for the money.