WOODY SEZ Underbelly Boulevard, Soho

HOBO , GENIUS, AMERICA’S SOUL “Everybody might be just one big soul, so everywhere you look in the day or night, that’s where I’m gonna be” . That’s Woody Guthrie, in his last years, knowing his body was succumbing to the cruel speechless paralysis of Huntingdon’s Chorea. That link to universal human soulhood was hard-earned, through decades of hard work, wandering, poverty in the dustbowl years and political persecution under Senator McCarthy. Because all the time he was picking up songs and writing them in answer, in tune with the campfire laments, work-songs, jokes and grievances of the ordinary poor. Like many here I had been aware of songs like “This land is your land” – written in defiance of the schmalz of God Bless America – and the Plane Crash at Los Gatos, the lament for working deportees made famous by Joan Baez . The latter has been added to this remarkable, moving likeable and thoughtful 90-minute show as a gesture against the present ICE raids under President Trump. I…