Freedom For The Working Class!

Reformation, Like Education, Is A Journey, Not A Destination

I Nursed Men Back To Sanity Who Were Driven To Despair. I Solicited Clothes For The Ragged Children, For The Desperate Mothers. I Laid Out The Dead, The Martyrs Of The Strike.

You Ought To Be Out Raising Hell. This Is The Fighting Age. Put On Your Fighting Clothes.

But In Shimabukuro's Hands, As He Breaks Out Experimental Jazz, Lays Down A Steady Blues Train, Or Shreds On Rock Anthems, This Little Jumping Flea Becomes A Melodic Monster.

And Who Is Responsible For This Appalling Child Slavery? Everyone.