“Alice’s Restaurant” is back on the menu. First released in 1967 as the title track of Arlo Guthrie’s first album, the 18-minute talking blues narrative became a keystone of what eventually became the counterculture. Guthrie, then 20, took audiences by surprise with his sly, sarcastic delivery of a tale concerning Thanksgiving, garbage and draft boards.
The song was decidedly of its time, and has a definite “you had to be there” feel. It is now quaint to imagine high school kids sitting around in circles playing the full version of the song to each other, forming clubs called “The Group W Bench” to celebrate their rebellion. Unlike the aggressive nature of modern social commentary, “Alice” made listeners simultaneously laugh and think.
And to this day, there are still people who take time out of their Thanksgiving to play the song in full as if it were part of their family history.
Arlo is headlining the Guthrie Family Legacy Tour. He is the linchpin between his father, (folksinger Woody Guthrie, who wrote “This Land is Your Land” and characterized his guitar as a machine that fights fascism) and his children. Son Abe is the band’s musical director. Daughter Sarah Lee, along with husband Johnny Irion, filters Woody through Arlo to come up with her own brand of socially compelling roots rock.
As part of a tour that began last July, the Guthrie clan touches down at the Admiral Theater April 12. At press time there were only about 100 tickets remaining, with circles, arrows and a paragraph on the back of every one.
TRANSCRIPT, March 13 2006 9 a.m. PDT.
Key West Inn, this is Tammy. Can I help you?
Arlo Guthrie, please.
Arlo Guthrie? The musician? Is he staying here?
I was given this number.
I’ll check. Hang on.
Thank you.
Hello?
Mr. Guthrie? This is Charlie Bermant, from What’s Up Magazine, Kitsap County, Washington.
Hi. Where’s that?
Bremerton. You are playing the Admiral Theater on April 12.
Oh yeah. I love the Admiral. It’s a great place.
What should we expect to hear?
We are on the last six weeks of the Guthrie Family Legacy Tour. It’s a way to have fun with my family, singing some of my dad’s old songs and some of his new songs. Some of my old songs and some of my new songs. And some spontaneous songs. And “Alice” is back on the menu.
Your dad died in 1967. How can there be new songs?
He left about 3,500 handwritten poems with no tune. My sister took some of them to different musicians and it resulted in several albums by Billy Bragg, Wilco and some other people. I’ve worked on some of the songs, too, but we are all family so there is no copyright.
Why “Alice” now?
These times are looking eerily familiar. Right now, you never know where the next group of soldiers are going to come from. So the song has some legs. The song originally took me about a year to write, from 1965 to 1966. So we are celebrating its 40th anniversary. I never thought I’d be singing it for that long. I’d never thought I’d be performing for this long. We did it for the 15th anniversary in 1983, and re-recorded the whole “Alice’s Restaurant” album in 1996 in the same church where it all happened. Now it is closer to the way we did it originally. We took some of the material out. A lot of people today don’t know who Nixon was, and don’t know anything about the 18-minute gap.
What did your father think of “Alice?”
We like to say that we played it for him and he passed away. It was way before CDs so we had an acetate, a test pressing, that we played for him. By that time he was pretty gone. He smiled.
Did you play it for him as a work in progress?
No.
How does it feel to turn 60?
I haven’t really thought about that yet. I don’t ever know what’s going to happen. I started playing at the beginning of the “Folk Scare,” and was six to 10 years younger than most of the people that were playing, like Bob Dylan and Phil Ochs. I was always one of the young kids showing up at the festivals. Now I’m one of the older ones playing. There are not many of us around. But right now there are some great new pickers.
How do the stories fit in?
When I started performing and included stories the audience would tell me to shut up and sing. After I had played “Alice” for a while and then stopped the audience wanted me to stop singing and talk. But I am not out to please everybody. I’m not a pop star that just repeats himself. If I take a loss in the audience because I don’t play the same thing over and over that’s fine. There are other places that people can go to see that kind of stuff.
How do you keep things fresh?
If I get to the point where I can do a song in my sleep it becomes like a trained seal act. If I ever find myself drifting while playing a song I will just take it off the show. But It’s a two way street. You have to train the audience to accept the new stuff and they have to train you to know what is working. But you want to be creative. Some of the songs that you play over and over again you add new elements. Like “Coming into Los Angeles” or “City of New Orleans.” Some parts are exactly the same.
We can always do a good show. But we can never do a great show unless we are willing to risk doing a bad one. We take that risk, and it pays off about one in a 100 times. To do a great show where everything works and everyone plays right doesn’t happen too often. I’ve done it three or four times throughout the years. Fortunately I’ve gotten them on tape and released them as albums.
What’s the secret to doing a great show?
If I knew that, I’d do one every night.
How are you feeling now?
I feel great. Never felt better. There was a test that I could have taken for the (hereditary) disease (Huntington’s Chorea) but it would only tell me if I had it. There was nothing I could do about it. Who the hell wants to know?
Your kids feel the same way?
Yeah.
Thanks for talking to me. I may come to one of the shows, and promise that I won’t disrupt things by yelling for “Guabi Guabi” (from 1977’s “Amigo”).
Well, just call out for it. If we are relaxed enough and in the mood we just might try it.
Thanks, Arlo.
