Let's have a hootenanny.

According to Wikipedia, the word 'hootenanny' was originally an Appalachian dialect word meaning 'thingamajig'. You can't prove it by me. I never heard the term until the early 1960s, when it began to be used to mean, 'folk music evening with socially-aware protest songs in'. This sort of thing made TV executives nervous. There was a TV show on in the early 1960s called Hootenanny. I watched it with enjoyment, although I date my disdain for Bob Dylan from the night I stumbled across him plunking on a guitar and wailing, 'And you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend, we're not on the Eve of Destruction. . . ' It wasn't the sentiment my 13-year-old self objected to, it was the singing.

Anyhow, apparently the show, which involved top-notch performers like Dylan, Baez, Theodore Bikel, the Smothers Brothers, et al, singing before a live audience of college students, was a big success – until the network people banned Pete Seeger. Remember him? Everybody was nervous about Pete Seeger. But if Pete couldn't sing, neither would Dylan or Baez. Okay, they said, but Seeger has to sign a loyalty oath.

You can imagine how that went down. No dice, and the show got cancelled. Unfortunately, the tapes got wiped, so we can't watch it now. So I thought: let's Youtube ourselves a hootenanny with no loyalty oaths, just to give you the flavour of 1960s folk music. It's a fun topic. I'm going to leave out the boring stuff, like 'Michael, Row the Boat Ashore', because y'all know those already, and concentrate on the ones that made an impression on me back in junior high.

One popular group was The New Christy Minstrels. A girl I knew in 7th grade had an album of theirs, and whenever I went over to her house, she'd play it for us. The song I remember best is called 'In the Hills of Shiloh'. It sent chills down my spine. It may sound hokey to you now, but it was a kind of Vergangenheitsbewältigung back then.

Okay, let's get political. You can listen to Barry McGuire sing 'Eve of Destruction'. If you get the urge to go Occupy something, don't blame me.

Of course, the Weavers were a big influence. By the time we'd learned three guitar chords, we were singing some version of 'If I Had a Hammer'. Sorry about that, but it was sort of obligatory. This is the sort of thing they're making fun of in the film A Mighty Wind. At least, I didn't force you to listen to 'Tzena, Tzena', because that was from the late 40s.

Unfortunately, Woody Guthrie wasn't around to enjoy the folk revival – but his son Arlo was. Here's Arlo doing 'City of New Orleans'. Cheery and plaintive at the same time. And doesn't Arlo look great in this clip? We were all young once.

You want some comic relief? Here are the Smothers Brothers, telling you about the Folk Singers' Manual. Oh, and boiling some cabbage. Down.

Let's get all philosophical and introspective with Simon and Garfunkel. They started being popular around 1966, but we'll stretch our time machine parameters a bit. Besides, they definitely belonged to the Greenwich Village/folk revival bunch.

We'll ask Leonard Cohen to drop in on his way from Montreal back to his home in Greece, just to sing 'Song Long, Marianne'. (We have to do this, otherwise Cactuscafe will be disappointed.) See? Sometimes they do love songs. Okay, broken-heart love songs. . . Tom Paxton will be doing that, too, a bit later.

Back to social consciousness. Nuclear angst well summed up in 'Come Away, Melinda'. You may not think much of the music, but hey, this was why those people in the network offices were worried about guys armed with guitars.

Speaking of dangerous people, how about the Clancy Brothers? They filled our screens with bawneen sweaters and our ears with drinking songs. (Seeger sneaks in the end of this one, also Tom Paxton, another dangerous person.) You want more Paxton? Try 'The Last Thing on My Mind'. The Clancys weren't the only 'ethnics' around: there was always the inimitable Theodore Bikel. (And you thought he was only Worf's foster father. Shame on you.)

Okay, okay, we'll end with Joan Baez (not my favourite singer, but she brings the theme full circle, to a plaintive song about the defeat of the South). Join hands and sway to and fro, please. Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na. . . .

You've got the hootenanny spirit. Now, go out and protest something.